“I trust you have all studied the cases for today’s class.” Professor Fangsfield surveyed the room full of eager and often drooling students. His eyes rested on the two different ones. “Mr. Woolly! Ms. Fluffy! Why are you sitting so close to the door? Come! Join the rest of the class. There are two seats right here in the middle.”
    The two students bleated nervously, but complied with the professor’s request.
    “You know you have to be on your toes in this class,” Professor Fangsfield continued. “If you want to earn those sheepskins, that is. Oh! Excuse me, Mr. Woolly and Ms. Fluffy. Just a figure of speech, you know.
    “Now the first case. Pack vs. Lamb. What was this one about? M-i-s-t-e-r ... Chewy. Oh! Excuse me! That’s Woolly!”
    Mr. Woolly rose shakily. All his limbs were aquiver. “Uh, uh ...” he stammered stupidly.
    “Didn’t read the material, eh?” growled the professor, arching an eyebrow.
    “Th-that isn’t it,” Mr. Woolly stammered on. “I r-read it ...”
    “Sit down! Mr. Pointyears, then.”
    Mr. Pointyears rose. “The Pack was able to cut Lamb off from the herd using cooperative hunting maneuvers and trap him with a minimum of wolfpower by taking advantage of natural geographical features.”
    “Such as?”
    “They made use of a river to cut off Lamb’s retreat,” Mr. Pointyears concluded.
    “Yes, excellent!” said the professor approvingly. “And what was the conclusion of this case? Ms. Fluffy!”
    Ms. Fluffy was speechless and rigid.
    “So, you haven’t read the material either. Mr. Silvertail.”
    “A swift frontal attack with a single bite to the jugular,” said Mr. Silvertail.
    “Good, good,” crooned the professor. “The second case is Fold vs. Pack. Who can tell me about this one? Mr. Wolf. Hmm. That’s Mr. A. Wolf. There seem to be a lot of you with the same surname.”
    “In Fold vs. Pack, the Fold accused the Pack of vicious and unwarranted attacks on their property and persons,” Mr. A. Wolf responded.
    “And?”
    “Under the guidance of the Leader, the Pack settled out of court. They settled on the Fold, and a sumptuous feast was had by all.”
    “This brings up another topic,” said Professor Fangsfield. “Who will demonstrate the proper way to show submission to the Leader?”
    Paws shot up all over the room. Whom should he choose? Professor Fangsfield gave no hint of his choice as he scanned the eager faces.
    “Ms. Fluffy!” he said finally.
    Ms. Fluffy rose nervously, then prostrated herself on the floor.
    “Not bad,” said the professor. “Now, roll over on your back.”
    “You’ll eat me!” she squeaked.
    “That’s ridiculous!” scoffed the professor. “You’re my student! I’m not allowed to eat my students. If I were, do you think you would have lasted this long? Now, your parents, who were not my students, were another matter. Quite tasty, really.”
    Ms. Fluffy rolled over on her back.
    “Now,” continued the professor, “extend your neck. Expose your jugular.”
    Ms. Fluffy leapt to her feet and bolted out of the room, bleating piteously. Mr. Woolly, finding himself alone in a sea of wolves, was right at her heels.
    “Does this mean you’re dropping my class?” called the professor to their retreating rumps.

                                                              * * * * *

    “So, Professor Fangsfield,” said the reporter, “how have the sheep students been performing in your class?”
    “They’re not competitive with the other students,” the professor replied.
    “Why do you suppose that is?” asked the reporter.
    “Must be something in their culture,” he said. “They just aren’t motivated to succeed.”