My junior year of high school, it came to my attention that I was probably never going to be on time for school. It wasn't an issue of getting up too late (I didn't) or missing the bus (I had my own car) or spending too much time primping (I can be ready for anything in 10 minutes flat), but rather that I just wasn't interested in being there on time, dealing with the traffic, walking through the hoards of other students in A Hall......basically, why work myself around school when I could work school around me? Bottom line, I needed to be an aide first period. I was a good kid, teachers liked me, so finding someone to sponsor me as their aide wasn't a problem. The problem came in the form of PHYSICS CLASS.
Now, I wanted to take Physics. Although science doesn't really interest me, I'm smart, and the smart kids took Physics. The stumbling block was that, due to a shortage of kids who had actually taken the prerequisites for Physics, there was only one (small) Physics class. And it was held first period. Despite my innocent exterior (oh, how I pulled the wool over everyone's eyes--Fools! Fools, you all were!) I was pretty sure I couldn't bat my eyes at Mr. Corvin (the Physics teacher) and convince him that he should let me take Physics, miss class whenever I felt like it, and when I DID bother to show up, be able to wander in on my own time. For a man whose entire wardrobe was rayon and patent leather, that just wasn't going to fly. I had to find a back-up plan.
Turns out, my high school boyfriend, Brad, and many of my friends were in that Physics class. And it had a very large window that looked out on the lot where I parked. So, I made it a point to show up for the first few days, then after that, I sort of came and went as I pleased--through the window, no less. I wasn't on the class roll--I was listed as being an office aide that period. Brad gave me the assignments, let me know if I was going to miss anything entertaining, and let me cheat off of him during pop quizzes if I hadn't been there for the material. (In return, he had the honor of dating a cheerleader. I am not joking. This sounds like nothing, but it was apparently important to him. Go figure.) It took Mr. Corvin two entire six-week grading periods to finally figure out that I wasn't really in his class. At which point he promptly kicked me out, told me I couldn't come back, and sent a note to the office regarding my shenanigans. Nothing ever came of it. (And I still snuck in all the time to hang out with my friends.)
The point is.......well, there isn't one, really. I just think it's a funny story. But it's true. Oh, and when I got kicked out, I had an A average. I should have had Physics on my transcript. Bastards.