Jeri waited anxiously for her essay to be returned. She felt pretty good about this one. She had understood the passage by George Bernard Shaw and thought she had a handle on what devices he had used and the effect he was hoping for in his readers.
She watched the faces of her fellow students as they accepted their papers, tightened their mouths as they surveyed the red ink gushing all over their papers, and then through squinted eyes turned to the last page to take a peek at their grades.
Jeri knew from experience that the amount of red bleeding all over a paper had nothing to do with a person’s overall grade. That red could be positive or negative comments. She could hear a few groans along with some squeals of delight, and one, “Yeah!” coming from Robert.
She waited anxiously. She knew she had nailed it.