Trouble

There were two times I got in trouble in high school.

The first incident involved a “mean” op-ed I wrote for our school’s newspaper. It was about a local high school that had 20 valedictorians while our school only had one valedictorian. (Two at most. One year, they dragged the GPAs out by four or five decimals and the students were still tied for first place — at least that’s what I’d heard. That time around, they awarded it to both students.)

The column basically said, “Wow, grade inflation is wild. They don’t do that at our school, and it’s probably a good thing, because they’re just getting us ready for college/the real world/the reality of being average.”

Apparently, students, parents, and administrators at the other school got mad at “being accused of being soft” or something like that. They were so mad that they called the superintendent of our district, and he came and smoothed things over, for me and for the newspaper staff. That was really, really great of him — to intervene on behalf of his students.

But sheeeeeeesh at the other school district’s superintendent, for trying to penalize and punish students at our school. Not because of violence, not because of threats, not even because of crosstown rivalry graffiti — because of 400-something words printed in a school newspaper.

I often say that I’m one of the most progressive, left-minded, open-minded people. But I can’t wrap my mind around arguing with a teenager over an opinion piece that honestly wasn’t too inflammatory.

Because of this incident, I learned a valuable lesson. Whatever words you write — even if it’s a relatively inoffensive statement — there will be someone who gets their panties twisted thong snapped. We live in a “You love pancackes? So you hate waffles, then! 😡” kind of world. It’s time to accept that.

Eat your pancakes, ****ers! Eat your pancakes! 🥞

The other time I got in trouble is less interesting. I nearly “failed” a drug test at school, because I’d already gone to the bathroom that morning. Ultimately, they had a teacher take me over to the local drug testing lab — where they test people who are starting new jobs, and where they test also people who are on parole, I guess. They had me come in around lunch time — after I’d had a few hours to chug a bunch of water — and then I was able to submit a sample.

I didn’t even do anything wrong — but everyone was put out by my inability to go to the bathroom on command. What can I say? I have an enormous bladder, and I wasn’t using any drugs. I swear.

The wildest thing about all of this is that they made every student who parked on campus take drug tests — and since I drove myself to school, the test was mandatory. This seems like the kind of overreach they’d only be allowed to get away with at some uber-parochial charter school. But I attended a public school.

The public schools around here are freakishly uptight — and if you need proof of that, look no further than the first few paragraphs of this post.

Those are the only times I remember being hollered at, or reprimanded, or glared at. Well, that last part isn’t true — I was always being glared at. But those were the only times I ever got close to getting a detention or a suspension.

One time, I did skip class and went to the drive-in with two of my friends. I just straight-up skipped class — and I went out to eat with probably two of the smartest, kindest kids in my math class. They were like, “Don’t worry about it! We won’t get in trouble, because it’s almost summertime! They won’t mind! No worries! 😇”

We didn’t get in trouble. They were absolutely right. Teachers really liked them, and … well, they were good kids. They really were!

That day, I learned another important lesson. I learned that, if I can befriend people who are more likable than I am, other people will give me grace — as long as I’m standing beside a cool or kind person.

It makes me want to be a kind person, too. Being cool isn’t in the cards — but I can be more likable by being more kind.

And I can do that much. I know that I can.