My Ancient History class in year 11-12 was fantastic. It was almost like English, but you just analysed one really long, really good book, and stopped looking for all that deeper meaning junk. Greece and Rome have such amazingly good stories to them. I didn't score highly in the class, but enjoyed it immensely.
It helped that the teacher was somewhat... eccentric. Old british guy, python-esque sense of humour, occasionally did things to make the class more enjoyable for everyone, except people who annoyed him. He gave lectures in some of his classes, and when some people would not shut up and listen, he'd wait until he was done, set us to do some work from Thucydides or something, wait 5-10 minutes, and then slowly and casually just mosey his way over to the girl's desk, picked up her stuff, and moved it all right to the back of the class. It was a class of only about 10-15 people, and in a classroom designed for 30, so it was waaaaay back. He didn't say a word to her, just went and sat back down. She just sat there spluttering for a few moments, and eventually realised what happened. She just gave a sigh of defeat and moved to the back for the rest of the lesson. All without him saying a word. Myself and my mate, each of whom payed attention and had similar senses of humour were trying really, really hard to not laugh at this poor girl who didn't quite realise what she was messing with.
Good times.
