When being the class clown backfires.
went to a Catholic Military high school back in the late 90’s and was a noted class clown. I was known to eschew the dress code and grooming standards with flagrant but petty violations, and just kind of stick it to the military admins who put a lot of stock in following rules and orders. Here’s some examples:
Coming in without shoes on - it was always a bet to see if they’d send me home or give me new shoes from the supply closet. They never sent me home, and I think I was given three new pairs of dress shoes in my senior year.
Having facial stubble for uniform inspection in the morning (done by the JROTC students in our class) and getting a fail (have to report to 1st Sergeant for explanation), and then using an electric shaver before reporting to the sergeant. I’d always do this for the inspecting students I really didn’t care for, who would get an earful from 1st Sergeant for failing me when I was obviously clean shaven.
Repeatedly calling military personnel by the wrong rank, and sometimes calling the brothers “monks” and “rabbis”. This was great because it’d always result in demerits and I’d regularly get demoted, which leads to:
Constantly stealing ranks and medals from the supply closet (when they’d bring me there to get new shoes). I didn’t care about getting demoted because I always had a fresh set of higher ranks to wear.
I was a solid B and C student for most of my time there, but senior year I was dangerously close to failing Physics (I think - it’s been a long time and some of the details are hazy). I wound up passing the REGENTS exam, but the head Brother informed me that for me to get a passing grade for the class I’d need to attend summer school.
This really sucked because it was our last summer before college, and summer school started promptly at 7am and lasted through late July. But, for the first four days it really didn’t seem that bad. Generally it was myself and some fellow underachievers just kinda hanging out for four hours, no focus on academics at all.
On the last day of the first week the head Brother walks in and says:
“Mr. Popjr, what are you doing here?”
“I was told I needed to be here to pass.”
He smiled deviously at me and said “Oh?”
Those fuckers had pranked me back and had me attend a week of summer school when I didn’t need to. I had passed the class, but grades hadn’t been mailed out yet, so I had no idea.
I wasn’t even mad - it was pretty awesome of them to get the last petty jab in before I’d leave the school for good.
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