It’s been a while since I’ve written anything about my
school days. You’d think that I would have exhausted all my stories about
school by now, but no. What I have done is exhausted the supply of stories that
I’m willing to divulge. But I figured if I thought hard enough, I could dredge
up one that wasn’t too damaging.
And I did. Maybe.
I was in the fourth grade. My teacher, an elderly lady who
should have retired long before I was in her class didn’t seem to like me much.
I’m not sure why but it didn’t really matter because I didn’t like her much
either. But then, none of her students did.
Which is why when I came across a copy of an upcoming test,
lying there on her desk for all the world to see, I devised a little scheme.
No, I didn’t take the test, didn’t even touch it. So, technically, I wasn’t
guilty of any wrongdoing. At least in my mind. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t
use what I’d found.
Let me explain. See, I’ve always had a pretty good memory. I
could memorize things with very little effort—and in very little time. So, I
took the liberty of memorizing the test, all of it, while the teacher was busy
correcting my work that I’d turned in for that day.
Back at my desk, I carefully wrote down each of the
questions. Then, flipping through the textbook, I found the answers and filled
them in. My original thought was to make copies and hand them out to my
classmates. But I knew that would cost money; besides, I also knew that
someone, wasn’t sure who, but someone, would rat me out. So instead, I
conveniently left the test inside another kid’s desk when no one was looking.
As I’d hoped, the next day, this other student shared his
new treasure with a friend. And then another friend. Soon, it seemed the whole
class had a copy of that test. Except me. It appeared I was the only honest
one.
Yeah, my teacher didn’t buy that either.
As I had figured, someone did tell her what was going on.
She went around the room, from desk to desk, collecting all the papers that had
been circulated. But of course, when she got to me, I didn’t have one.
She didn’t say a whole lot but I could tell that she knew.
And obviously, though I didn’t think of it at the time, it was all in my
handwriting, which I’m sure she could easily recognize.
As a result of all this, the test was changed. Somewhat
anyway. A lot of the same material was on the alternate test the teacher handed
out a couple of days later—just switched around a little. But also as a result
of all this, I had no problem completing the test; I’d searched out the answers
already, and then written them down. The material still was in my head so the
answers came pretty easily.
Eventually, a few weeks later, I think, the teacher did ask
me if I had taken the test. I said no, but then told her what I’d done. She
wasn’t impressed. In fact, she didn’t believe me. She said there was no way I
could memorize an entire test in just a few minutes.
So, I recited the test for her, word for word—along with the
answers. It worked, she was convinced; I hadn’t “taken” the test. For a moment,
I remember thinking I was off the hook. Then she opened her desk, took out my
test from that day, and marked a big red “F” on it. Now, some would say I
deserved that but I’m still convinced that she just didn’t like me. Still not
sure why either! ~
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