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Story Time:
The year is 1988.
Every evening, we had to have our homework sheets signed by one of our parents to show that we had actually done our homework.
They have a name for this kind of strictness: NAZIISM.
But I digress...
The year is 1988.
Every evening, we had to have our homework sheets signed by one of our parents to show that we had actually done our homework.
They have a name for this kind of strictness: NAZIISM.
But I digress...
I was a 7 year old pinball whose passions ranged from baseball to Knight Rider reruns.
I also plotted how to score a contestant spot on an OG show called FUN HOUSE hosted by J.D. Roth.
(never happened. I know, lame)
I also plotted how to score a contestant spot on an OG show called FUN HOUSE hosted by J.D. Roth.
(never happened. I know, lame)
This was also the year that we began to learn how to write in cursive.
Yes, I am a dinosaur.
I also realized that I was being handed a golden ticket.
In my tiny mind, a voice said to me
“Nate, you mom and dad will NEVER have to sign your homework sheet ever again.”
Yes, I am a dinosaur.
I also realized that I was being handed a golden ticket.
In my tiny mind, a voice said to me
“Nate, you mom and dad will NEVER have to sign your homework sheet ever again.”
That afternoon I spent my time trying to chase a baby rabbit and make it wear a jacket so I could tell my baby brother that Peter Cottontail was REAL.
Homework was a thing of the past.
I was on Easy Street with a row of green lights and my foot on the accelerator.
Homework was a thing of the past.
I was on Easy Street with a row of green lights and my foot on the accelerator.
The next morning on the way to school, I sat in the back seat where I dug thru my mother’s purse to find her checkbook.
I spent the next 10 minutes practicing her signature.
Again, I have only had ONE DAY of training in cursive.
I spent the next 10 minutes practicing her signature.
Again, I have only had ONE DAY of training in cursive.
I peeked to see how much further we had before getting to school and figured we only had about 3-5 more minutes.
I then signed my mother’s signature on my homework sheet.
Strutting peacocks aren’t near as proud.
Hashtag: NAILED IT
I then signed my mother’s signature on my homework sheet.
Strutting peacocks aren’t near as proud.
Hashtag: NAILED IT
I walked into my classroom and dropped my homework sheet on my desk like I was dumping clams into boiling water and took my seat.
Miss Mowry, my 2nd grade teacher took one look at my sheet and then jerked my little ass out into the hallway.
Miss Mowry, my 2nd grade teacher took one look at my sheet and then jerked my little ass out into the hallway.
“Did your mother ACTUALLY sign this!?”
Well, obviously.
Well, obviously.
I was immediately sent to the principal where he proceeded to marvel at my brazenness.
“I kinda admire your gumption, Mr. Taylor. On the other hand, this is forgery and tantamount to lying so I don’t have any other choice.”
“I kinda admire your gumption, Mr. Taylor. On the other hand, this is forgery and tantamount to lying so I don’t have any other choice.”
Moral of the Story:
Don’t be afraid to shoot your shot.
Don’t be afraid to shoot your shot.
