In his literature classes, the core of his teaching philosophy was laid bare: simply reading the texts. Mac had an almost austere trust in the power of the original work. He rarely posed questions designed to probe for surface understanding, nor did he offer extensive, pre-packaged explanations of themes or characters. His genius lay in creating the space for the material to speak for itself, trusting his students' intellectual capacity to wrestle with, interpret, and ultimately absorb the profound meaning of the literature directly.

This unconventional trust extended to his management of student workload, leading to his legendary, self-professed "laziness." He never assigned homework and was equally notorious for never correcting assignments. In a system that often equates effort with efficacy, Mac was the startling exception. Despite, or perhaps because of, this lack of conventional academic pressure, he achieved outrageously great results in the rigorous Cambridge exams year after year. His students routinely outperformed their peers, a continuous, inexplicable triumph that became the hallmark of his unique teaching genius.

However, any student who mistook his lax approach to homework for an easy path was quickly disabused of the notion when faced with his exam paper marking. 

Mac's personal evaluation was terrifyingly strict. He maintained an almost impossibly high personal standard, with the highest marks he ever awarded hovering around 55%. The vast majority of papers typically fell below 40% or resulted in an outright failing grade in his own uncompromising evaluation. 

This internal, brutal assessment, far removed from the actual outcomes, made the subsequent, glowing Cambridge results not just a success, but an even greater testament to the singular efficacy of his unconventional methods. His marking was the crucible, and the Cambridge results were the gold that emerged, proving that Mac's focus on deep, uncoerced understanding surpassed any metric of rote learning or busywork.