One year in college I signed up to take a photography class. It satisfied my arts requirement, and I had absolutely no proclivity towards drawing, sculpture, or music. Photography was the obvious out. The camera would do everything for me, I would just have to press a button. The class was mostly full of students like me. There were a few who were serious about photography as art, but most just wanted to make do with a B or C doing the least amount of work necessary. We had many group projects and because it was hard to get models we’d usually just take photos of each other. We would make a game of it, sneaking around campus with our cameras and trying to catch another student in an embarrassing or amusing situation. Our professor would show some of the photos turned in each week to the class. When one of our “special” photos was chosen we’d score points based on the amount of laughter we could get. Only once was I a victim of our pranks. I had been riding my bike right after it rained, and went too fast around a turn. My bike slid out from under me and I flew to the ground. I wasn’t seriously hurt, but when I got up and turned around there was my classmate Ray waving his camera at me. I got to see the result the next Monday. He had somehow managed to take the photo as I was in midair. My arms were raised in front of my face and my eyes were agape in horror. But few in the class laughed; most winced instead. So he didn’t get to score any points for that masterpiece. At the end of the semester we added up the scores and I had won over Ray by a single point. It was the first time in my life I’d tried so hard at something and succeeded. I don’t remember what grade I got in the class.