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» School Naughtiness
Technological Skullduggery
At the end of every term, the last week of school was always a waste of time. The kids weren't bothered about learning and I suspect the teachers didn't really give a toss about teaching them either.
However, to my parents, rules were rules, and I had to go to school. Every time I would ask to stay off from school on the last day of term, but no amount of protesting would assuage them. And with both my parents being nurses it was very difficult; nay, impossible to feign illness without actually making myself ill - like breaking my arm or overdosing on paracetamol (Neither of which I was particularly keen to try).
I was made to go into school when, surprise surprise, there would be no more than 10 or 11 people from my year, usually made up of kids who had also been forced to go to school, or were teacher's pets, or the thick-as-two-short-plank numpties who didn't understand the unwritten laws of school. It was boredom layered on boredom for the rest of the day. (I wasn't cool or rebellious enough to consider going into town or skiving off somewhere else)
So, fed up with this, I concocted a cunning plan, a plan so cunning you could brush your teeth with it. See, at the time, scanners were just beginning to become popular in the world, and it so happened that my dad owned one... which he had taught me to use.
One day after school, before my folks got home, I booted it up. One short rummage in my bag brought up an old school letter, complete with the official header and footer and logo of the school, and the headmaster's signature for good measure. A scan here and a copy/paste there, and a bit of formal wording on Microsoft Word from me, and hey presto - one 'letter' from the school "...excusing all pupils from the last day of term due to staff shortages". I even scrumpled it up a bit and put some biro marks on it for good measure. I cleared away all evidence of wrongdoing and positioned myself in a manner that wouldn't look out of place - in front of the telly. It was like James Bond meets Grange Hill (I might even have been playing the Mission Impossible theme tune in my head while I was doing it).
My mum got home. I produced the document. Several excruciating seconds ticked by as she scanned the letter. She took a sharp intake of breath. For a split second I thought I'd been rumbled.
"Well I suppose you'll get to stay home after all."
That Friday was the sweetest lie in I have ever had.
Length? One A4 page.
(Fri 9th Sep 2011, 18:42, More)
Technological Skullduggery
At the end of every term, the last week of school was always a waste of time. The kids weren't bothered about learning and I suspect the teachers didn't really give a toss about teaching them either.
However, to my parents, rules were rules, and I had to go to school. Every time I would ask to stay off from school on the last day of term, but no amount of protesting would assuage them. And with both my parents being nurses it was very difficult; nay, impossible to feign illness without actually making myself ill - like breaking my arm or overdosing on paracetamol (Neither of which I was particularly keen to try).
I was made to go into school when, surprise surprise, there would be no more than 10 or 11 people from my year, usually made up of kids who had also been forced to go to school, or were teacher's pets, or the thick-as-two-short-plank numpties who didn't understand the unwritten laws of school. It was boredom layered on boredom for the rest of the day. (I wasn't cool or rebellious enough to consider going into town or skiving off somewhere else)
So, fed up with this, I concocted a cunning plan, a plan so cunning you could brush your teeth with it. See, at the time, scanners were just beginning to become popular in the world, and it so happened that my dad owned one... which he had taught me to use.
One day after school, before my folks got home, I booted it up. One short rummage in my bag brought up an old school letter, complete with the official header and footer and logo of the school, and the headmaster's signature for good measure. A scan here and a copy/paste there, and a bit of formal wording on Microsoft Word from me, and hey presto - one 'letter' from the school "...excusing all pupils from the last day of term due to staff shortages". I even scrumpled it up a bit and put some biro marks on it for good measure. I cleared away all evidence of wrongdoing and positioned myself in a manner that wouldn't look out of place - in front of the telly. It was like James Bond meets Grange Hill (I might even have been playing the Mission Impossible theme tune in my head while I was doing it).
My mum got home. I produced the document. Several excruciating seconds ticked by as she scanned the letter. She took a sharp intake of breath. For a split second I thought I'd been rumbled.
"Well I suppose you'll get to stay home after all."
That Friday was the sweetest lie in I have ever had.
Length? One A4 page.
(Fri 9th Sep 2011, 18:42, More)