I am at my old high school, in the class of a much-loathed teacher. He's about to give us his lesson; this usually consists of his popping a tape about ancient Rome into the VCR and surfing espn.com for the next 50 minutes. (I can thank this jerk-off for everything I know about world history, which is little to nothing.) Instead of starting his lesson, however, he comes over to me with a self-satisfied look on his face. I know this can't be good. He hates me, as I am a freshman in a class of sophomores, and I am the one who usually corrects the factual errors that always end up on his exams.

He comes up to me and says, "You didn't tell me that you would be gone all of last week." This is true. I was visiting family in upstate New York, and I left without informing the school of my absence. I don't answer him. He lets me know that I can complete the homework I missed for half credit. It's obvious that this is a ploy to tank my grade in his class. He hardly ever assigns homework; when he does, the due dates are never enforced. As an added bonus, the whole class is now watching me in my embarrassment.

As he turns to walk away, I do the only thing I can think of. I flip him off. Lightning fast, he turns around and catches me in the act. I look at him coolly, turn away, and walk out of the room as he begins yelling.

Instead of walking to detention, I go home to my apartment (which is, inexplicably, my Madison digs) and pack a few things. I've got copies of my high school transcript, and I'm sick of this little town. I decide to go to high school somewhere else until I graduate. Leaving my friends, who are banging on my front door and imploring me not to leave, I sneak out the back and drive away quietly into the night.

(I wish I had actually done this to said high school teacher. Sadly, I just put up with his bullshit for a semester and moved on to better things.)