Thursday, April 1, 2010

My Version of the Troublemaking Days

In my younger days, I considered myself to be a well-behaved kid. Although I avoided doing homework like the plague and then pretended that I somehow caught that plague to avoid gym class (or PE as us Brits call it), I rarely got into trouble at school. But when I did there was usually some sort of ridiculous story behind it - with that in mind:

Somebody had written "Rob (insert last name here) is hot" on one of the giant tables in the school library. According to the Librarian on duty, the only possible reason for this ungodly announcement was that I myself  had pronounced it to the world, in thick black marker, on the library's oak table. This bizarre assumption led to a conference call between the teacher in my next class and the Librarian, on speaker phone which detailed "my" deed for my classmates to hear and then look at me with the same sort of disgusted confusion people have when they see limbs being lopped off by a crazed psychopath in a horror movie.

I trundled off down to the library where again people I knew greeted me and watched as I furiously scrubbed off the offending material. I never did find out who wrote that on the table. My theory: the Librarian did it.


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Earlier still in my educational internment, there was a science teacher called Mr. Wood, who for some reason completely despised me; the way one would despise someone who had murdered their entire family and who had then sent them a flip book every two weeks, depicting the murder taking place.

His irrational hatred spilled over one day in the classroom. As I previously noted, I rarely completed homework. But on this particular occasion, I had finished all my work the previous evening and so came to class prepared for the mundane onslaught of science that was my High School biology class. However, my friends were not.

Usually, my friends were the sort to get things done on time and to a good enough standard to maintain decent grades - so, I took advantage of this opportunity to help them out, and allowed them to quickly use my homework as a guide for them to scribble down some notes on some silly little science study that comprised our homework. We were assigned some nonsense textbook work during class so that Mr. Wood could put his feet up, relax and mark our homework. I knew as soon as he started looking at me over those ridiculous reading glasses of his there was trouble brewing.

The tiny bespectacled man called my friends and me up to the front of the class and when we got there he separated us, the two of them on one side, me on the other. And then, in classic Mr Wood style,  he against all the odds somehow managed to locate the wrong end of the stick :

"Why am I not surprised that you've copied your friend's work, Rob?"

The response in my head was bouncing back and forth between "because you have the mental capacity of a tree" and "What..The.. F!!??.".

In spite of my protestations and some fairly honest mea culpas from my friends, I was forced to redo the night's homework (this time in "my own words"). I was also forced to explain in an essay why "flagrant plagiarism" has no place at school. I copied most of the plagiarism essay from an article in a magazine. We cheaters never learn.

11 comments:

Sarah said...

I can't wait to tell my brother he has the "mental capacity of a tree" the next time he tells me I have a stupid face!

Allison said...

Are you even certain you were the Rob who was considered hot? There were many Robs at Central.

Rob said...

Sarah: Please do. Although if he bursts into tears I will not be held criminally responsible.

Allison : First off, thanks. Second off, yes. The person who did it wrote my last name there too. And so there little room for confusion.

Allison said...

Sorry - I just thought perhaps your ego was inflating a little too much.

It's the accent though - every Canadian girl is a sucker for a British accent.

That said, no, it wasn't me who wrote that. I didn't know who you were when you first came to Canada. Your brother was in my gym class (P.E.). I just thought he was annoying because he never passed the ball to me when we played soccer (football).

Rob said...

Allison : Aww, no worries Al. My brother never passed the ball to me either. Even when it was just the two of us playing.

Kinsey said...

This was hilarious!! That's some bad luck you experienced in school.

Kirsty said...

I spent my whole school life hoping someone would write "kirsty is hot" on a desk. No dice. I even went back as a classroom assistant to see if I could finally inspire some ink. All I got was an ego bash when a pupil asked another if he would like me to have his children. Said pupil replied saying "No thanks, I want a hot wife."
I'd like to say I gave him detention, but I resorted to physical violence on the spot.

Rob said...

Kinsey : Haha, i can laugh about it now (sort of - I still think Mr. Wood is evil personified.) Glad to hear you enjoyed the stories!

Kirsty : It sounds like you were completely warranted in your violent response. To be honest, this was the only time it happened to me, and I'm fairly sure it was one of my friends joking around. Never did find the real culprit.

good girl gone grad said...

hahaha, i'm on route to becoming a high school teacher, and I can only hope that I'm nothing like Mr. Wood.

epitaphforaheart said...

Why would you ever try to skive off PE?

Well, I suppose if you had to do PE outdoors in chilly Canada, skiving is pretty much your only option.

Nobody ever scribbled, 'Risha is hot' across the tables in the library at my school.

The lockers and the toilet stalls are another matter, however.

p.s: alright? it's Risha by way of 20sb. :) x

Rob said...

Good girl gone grad: It would take a superhuman committment to acts of evil to even approach becoming like Mr. Wood. Im sure you will make a superb teacher.

Epitapforaheart:

I actually skived off PE in England. I never took it in Canada. There were a few sports i enjoyed : football, tennis, basketball, etc. But the thought of playing Rugby in the freezing cold against guys who could end my life by merely sitting down never really appealed. So i whipped up some dr's notes depicting my plague. Genius, no?