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It Was About Time He Learned The Truth About His Mother…

It probably won’t surprise you to learn that I was not a troublemaker in high school.

To this day, my sister (who is five years younger) still teases me about how I once told her that I never went to any wild parties in high school because I was never invited to one. “You don’t get invited to those!” she told me, shaking her head.

I did, however, know how to work “the system”. Although I never planned on revealing this specific part of my past to my kids, a conversation over dinner a couple of weeks ago led to my telling J about my biggest high school offense, which happened over the course of about four months at the end of my junior year.

The Tennessee high school that Jim and I attended had a fourth (or fifth?) period that was divided into thirds, and students went to class for two of those thirds and lunch for the third, uh, third.

I had first lunch (in the first third. Follow me?), but I spent my lunch period volunteering in the Counselor’s Office. Spanish class was where I went after that, except on days (many days) when I made a detour, and that’s where the trouble begins.

Jim had second lunch.

I used to go see him “on my way” to Spanish (as long as “on the way” means going downstairs from the Counselor’s Office to the cafeteria and then back up the stairs to class) for five or ten minutes. I was chronically late.

At dinner a couple of weeks ago I got all the way to that part of the story before I realized that my nineteen-year-old would likely ask the question. And he did.

“How did you get away with being late to class all the time?”

I lowered my voice a little bit and said, “I lifted some late-excuse pads from the Counselor’s Office and forged signatures so my Spanish teacher just thought I was finishing up loose ends. BUT I HAD AN ‘A’ AVERAGE IN SPANISH SO SHE WAS FINE WITH IT.”

Once he picked up his chin from the floor, he spent a few minutes nervously laughing and shaking his head while clearly in shock over this revelation.

“So…you just FORGED their signatures????”

“And you had PADS of those excuse sheets????”

“And your teacher never got you in trouble?????”

“How often did you do that???”

Three or four days each week.

And hey, it all worked out okay, didn’t it?

Jim and Melisa, second lunch at FHS

Jim and Melisa, second lunch at FHS, 1985

Comments on this entry are closed.

  • RoiAnn January 29, 2015, 8:28 am

    I love this story! AND it looks like we graduated H.S. the exact same year. Who knew? 😉

    • Melisa Wells January 29, 2015, 1:46 pm

      Well, *I* knew that. But I make it my business to know details like that. *wink*

  • Shannon January 29, 2015, 8:29 am

    Just look at that sweet, innocent smile in that picture.

    • Melisa Wells January 29, 2015, 1:47 pm

      Right? (sorry mom.)

  • Ann January 29, 2015, 8:29 am

    Laughing. So efficient and organized even while playing hooky. Love the picture.

    • Melisa Wells January 29, 2015, 1:48 pm

      I’m truly surprised I never went crazy from all the order in my life. Well, until recently. 😉

  • Tracey Becker January 29, 2015, 8:32 am

    This is probably one of my favorite stories of yours.

    Jim should grow a moustache like that again.

    • Melisa Wells January 29, 2015, 1:49 pm

      I don’t think he could grow one like that again, even if he tried. 😉

  • Colleen January 29, 2015, 10:55 am

    How freakin’ cute ARE you guys?!? You scallywag, you… 🙂

    • Melisa Wells January 29, 2015, 1:50 pm

      Thanks, matey! 🙂

  • Elaine A. January 29, 2015, 11:36 am

    Ha ha! Love makes us do crazy things! 🙂 This is a great story!

    • Melisa Wells January 29, 2015, 1:51 pm

      Thank you! I hang onto it for dear life because I don’t break rules too often. hah!

  • Kari January 29, 2015, 11:51 am


    • Melisa Wells January 29, 2015, 1:52 pm

      I’M NOT SURE!!!!
      (also, are you kidding? can’t tell. hahahaha)

  • Mom24_4evermom January 29, 2015, 1:21 pm

    Sooo funny! Awesome.

  • Liz January 30, 2015, 7:18 am

    Now I’ve got Bruno Mars in my head going all: I’ll take a late-excuse pad for yah!