My physics prof was a Yugoslav (nowadays he would've told us what flavor; I
think his name ended in "-a" rather than "-ic" though) who told us (daily)
about the Yugoslav soccer players who "shot" first and then looked for the
goal.  He was some old guy who had been passed over for the Nobel prize and
instead got stuck in the boondocks of suburban Phoenix teaching F=Ma to a
bunch of dorks who thought they wanted to be architects.

When I went in to him ask if he could recommend somebody to tutor me (having
failed the impossible first exam, intended to weed out the non-Einsteins), he
said that what I needed wasn't a tutor, but a spanking.  I got the tutor
anyway; the second exam was a piece of cake, leading us all to think we
understood physics; the third exam was impossible again, pitching us back
into despair.  The fourth was the final---and which was it going to be?
Turned out to be easy, thank God.

I knew you'd all want to know.

Ralph