Forging notes is, uh... bad

As Grace to eloquently put it, she feels I was some kind of kingpin of a goddam permission slip forgery ring at our H.S – and we’re going to call that accusation a sort of half-truth. 

In grade 11, we were only a year away from being old enough to sign yourself out of class. That was an early taste of adulthood. When you turned 18 you were trusted that if you had somewhere to be at any given time during the day, you could just sign yourself out, and your parents weren’t notified.

The ring sort of developed on its own, but word spread like wildfire once it was known. My grade, and the students in the grade ahead (who weren’t 18 yet) were my clientele.

Here’s a little backgrounder for you – in my grade 11 year, I dislocated my shoulder playing basketball. You should have seen the long bomb I threw to our forward with less than 10 seconds on the clock to win the game, but in that short moment of glory I was hit from behind by this glamazonian hay bale hauling girl while my shoulder was completely open and vulnerable. She pushed it out so far, I could see my shoulder without turning my head. Man, I sound like my dad when he’d share stories of what it was like playing football in the 60s in the -10 weather, and zzzzzzzzzz…… love you dad.

That injury caused me to be in physio twice a week to start. Now going so often means receiving a lot of notes from your parents, which in turn gave me a lot of completed permission slips to get back into class. After weeks of this pattern, teachers stopped asking for the actual slip, they’d just ask “Physio again, Patricia?”, and I’d gently nod my head and sit down trying not to disturb the class. I’m now unknowingly stockpiling office administrators initials and signatures on the un-submitted slips.

My locker neighbour Brent had gotten a hold of a blank permission slip from his homeform teacher and he asked me to borrow one of the completed permission slips he knew I had. I told him his handwriting was hideous and I’d do it for him. Between you and me, I only offered to help him because he was super cute.

Then it spiralled from there. Brent’s friends got wind that I could forge all 3 office administrators signatures like a champ. But I needed supplies. I decided to check my homeform class to see if Mrs. Kawasaki had a stack around. Sure enough, in her attendance binder, there they were. Mrs. Kawasaki was a very sweet woman. Almost too sweet – because I used a window of opportunity where that sweetness (because she was helping another student) distracted her from said blank pile of gold.

I took a chunk and at lunch Brent and I leaned up against our lockers and discussed next steps: target audience, supply and demand, ROI (wait, there was no ROI because I was a rookie businesswoman back then, and did this risky bit pro bono).

This went on until I turned 18 and thank gawd my birthday was in the beginning because I couldn’t keep up with the demand. At its peak, I had Brent’s friends stealing small amounts of blank slips from their homeforms so it was a natural progression for me to pass the torch to Brent when I retired. I kept 1 blank permission slip as a keepsake and put it in the time capsule Leigh and I made inside her locker. Which by the way was super cool btw - but I"ll tell that story at another time.

This story carries many little lessons such as:

• Be your own king or shall I say "queenpin" and make your mark at your H.S. Whether it be through sports, academia, volunteering, music, clubs, groups, and so on… keep it clean, keep it legal, and people will remember you forever.
• Never ever in 100 million years, ever do anything for a cute boy that compromises your morals, ethics, beliefs or can get you expelled from school. Just saying, I was lucky – and Brent and I never dated, although he miiiight have slept with Leigh in our 20s. 
• I don’t care how you dress it up – forging is wrong. Nowadays with surveillance, video enabled phones and cameras pointed at you intentionally or not almost 24/7, have fingerprint access and facial recognition programs that have taken away a number of opportunities for indiscretions. Little businesses like mine can’t exist anymore. And I’m grateful for that. Do it by the book, and rock it.
• Be there for your friends, no matter how hard it gets. I would have never in a zillion years thought Grace would have wanted a slip. She was soooo goody-goody-two-shoes I thought she would just disown me. Now (I know 20 years too late – but better late than never) 

I’m realizing that she could have used my help, and I would have if I had known she needed me. Dammit girl, next time, speak up! 

Love,
Patricia