Oh, gods, I just had the most horrible flashback to my freshman year of college. My roommate had already been accepted to Columbia, but she had to spend a year at the college I went to due to...personal problems. She'd been educated at the most presitigious (and expensive) private schools in town. At the end of the semester, she handed me a copy of her term paper for a poetry class and asked me to look over it for her.

The whole thing was a first-person narrative. Including the thesis statement.

Then she asked me, "Do you think I need a bibliography or something?"

It was supposed to be written in MLA format. Forget citing her references; she didn't even have a list of them.

I have since failed to be impressed by people who attend Ivy League institutions.