Well, this week marked the dreaded back to school time for most kids. Mine have been back for a month or so, but then, they're doing the year-round thing, which will definitely be nice around Christmas when they have three weeks off rather than the shortened Christmas break that they're handing out now for the traditional schools.
Of course, along with the new school year comes a whole host of other problems: new friends, new classes, new books and, of course, homework.
Now, I was usually good for getting my homework done. Surprise! Yeah, I was just that geeky that I always had it and it was usually right (I think I've shown you enough dumb-assery around here to prove that I wasn't quite a merit scholar or anything). The biggest problem I had was other people not handing in their homework.
I realize you're probably scratching your head right now, wondering just what in the Jiminy Fuck I'm talking about, but I'll explain. See, my first-year French teacher, Ilene Thurman, had a bit of a short temper when it came to people not taking her class quite serious enough. Also, Ilene had one breast amazingly larger--and saggier--than the other. She also wore a shirt that was scandalously see-through, thus proving that, yes, the one of the left was grossly more robust than the right one. We called her Ilene To-The-Left. Unfortunately, I think her gossamer navy blue shirt was her favorite, because she wore it at least once a week. And during one's formative years, that is not exactly what you think of when you spring from the bed every morning proclaiming "I hope I see some boobies today!"
Did I get off-track? Sorry about that.
Anyway, Ilene To-The-Left handed down a proclamation about halfway through the semester that anyone who didn't have their homework done would get a mark against them. The first mark was a warning shot across the bow; the second mark and every mark thereafter netted the offender a detention. And, at the time, the exchange rate for my school was 5 detentions = 1 Saturday school.
One day, late in the semester, I had forgotten my homework in my locker. She was not one to let a student go to retrieve their work. Come prepared, or don't come at all might have suited her perfectly as a maxim. So, that was my first mark. I was certain to bring my homework from then on.
Fast forward a few months. It's a new semester. The very first day of the new semester. And guess who left their French homework at home? Yeah, yours truly. But, hey, I'm good, right? I mean, I forgot my homework one other time several months prior. Again, it was done, but it was not in my hand. And, it was a brand new semester! Clean slate, right?
Not quite. Ilene To-The-Left was not amused, nor did she accept any of my apologies nor explanations nor excuses. Detention for me. *sigh* Just think about what kind of apple-polishing do-gooder I could have been had I not suffered that injustice! It boggles the mind.
To that end, I'm here to offer up a little help to the school children of the world who might suffer a similar fate. Though it might be impossible to plead your case, perhaps you can wow your teacher by pleading your case in Latin. Should you leave your assignment behind, try talking your way out of trouble with this handy little phrase:
Pronounced: "Con-eese may-oose id cohm-aid-eet."
As far as I can remember, that was my only detention. Not the only mark to go down on my permanent record, but still, it was my only detention.