How I Ended Up In Private College

In this installment of "Get to know The Commentator" I tell you the (unedited. As in a first draft) tale of how I ended up in private prep school.

It's funny.

In a sad way.

I was, to keep the story tight, a bad student with intelligence - proof of the former in my grades and the latter through only the testimony of teachers. "He's smart but..."

It was that extra purple Dino vitamin that always did me in I tell you!

My gang of friends. We weren't literally a gang but we were a group of friends huddled together thanks to the geographical proximity of our school and homes. We could have been a gang I guess but we passed on it. A couple of our "spherical" friends whom we mostly played sports with along with the occasional hanging out at certain establishments went a certain route - think 'Goodfellas' - but we didn't. In fact, all the guys went on to have seriously good jobs. A third of us (a total of 10 guys) were terrible students while the rest were A1+.

Anyway.

I wasn't a good student. Just laying out there.

Well. That's not exactly true. I was a solid student until I hit High Grade 5 and then I decided to insist on being an idiot. It was all coasting from that point on. One of the "smart" buddies maintains I was lazy and couldn't be bothered or else I'd be as good as any smartie.

The habits I formed in high school followed me to CEGEP. In my first term at Dawson College I was a total mess.I had no clue what the fuck hit me. I was completely out of my element. Which was the lowest type of element. If youtube existed then, the camera that would have followed me around would have made me a star I was so lost.

Sure, I gave the appearance I was in control but I was dying inside. I played the part well.

One of the conditions of my staying in college was I was obliged to take a math class. Suddenly, I went from goof-off asshole hanging out the cool kids saying stupid things like "I won't need math in life!", to relying on it, ironically, to get me though the Bovine University social system. In other words, I had to learn how to learn and study. Fast.

So what was my plan? Hunk down, roll up the sleeves and get it done? Nah. I did what anyone in hole would do. Dig it deeper.

I realized the guy next to me - Jay - had a knack for math. He was a Chinese exchange student who, if I remember the story right, was misplaced in the cheap math class I was in. He was so smart, the teacher was bringing in physics and complex mathematics books for him to read and keep his skills sharp. To compound my stress, the way the professor functioned was she gave a test once a week for ten weeks. You're cumulative score was your grade. So if you got 8/10 each time you ended up with 80%. It was simple and smart.

On the first test, Jay, I guess being too nice and naive if not in need of a "friend" he motioned to me to feel free to copy his work. Being weak as I was, I complied willingly. Ten tests later, I'm lavished with an 87%. One of the tests were pretty funny. I was lazy but not stupid. He would condense a solution that had a 10 step answer into, like, two. I had to tell him the teacher wasn't going to buy I came up with the same answer. What does he do? He tailors me an answer!

It was jolly. But I knew there was a potential danger. The final exam. I couldn't tell the difference between Cos and Tan from Costan or Tango & Cash.

On that day, the plan was simple. Sit behind him. All was going according to plan until some Indian chick cut in front of me and took the seat. I never cursed such vulgarities in my head until that point in my life - or since. I tried my telepathic Aquaman powers to get her to move but to no avail. I was stuck and my fraudulent escapade (I don't think I ever used the word escapade on this blog until now) was over. I sat on a diagonal to Jay but I was screwed. I left after the mandatory stay period of 15 minutes.

Kicking the snow as I left the school I realized I was in serious trouble. I don't remember much after that except my mother got involved and managed to get me a rewrite. "Isn't it great! The teacher was so nice. She was confused as to what happened!" "All I could do is muster a grin. I didn't know what to do for I knew I was going to fail again.

I had no choice but to appeal to another familial figure. My sister, eight years my senior. I was may 17 or 18 at the time. I explained the entire story to her and her boyfriend (now my fricken brother-in-law)as they laughed at my expense. All I know after that is I found myself in prep school where the classes were limited to 10 or less students.

It helped enormously. It's there I discovered I could write and think critically. I presented essays well enough to be told to explore a career in writing and even history.

Of course, I was still who I was and ignored it.

Now I blog.

I do wonder what ever happened to Jay.

Fin.