In 9th grade history class our teacher had taken to teaching out of this insanely dry set of course notes she found at a local college. After suffering through the ridiculously boring lectures and the inhumanely hard tests for a few months, a few guys, Brian, Rance, Richard and myself decided that we'd had enough and that cheating was going to be the ultimate solution.

Throughout the rest of the school year, our cheating grew more and more refined, and we took it to the extreme. Seated in the last row in the back of the classroom, we eventually ended up taking down the notes from her lecture directly onto the cheat sheet (that takes balls). Usually my cheat sheet measured something like four inches square, front and back. I learned how to write really tiny that year. On the day of the test, I would wear this huge winter coat with the cheat sheet shoved up the sleeve. Brian and Richard usually sat on theirs. Once the test began, we sneaked out our cheat sheet, filled in the four pages of answers, and disposed of (swallowed) the evidence.

none of us were ever caught.

Richard had the ultimate revenge on Miss Payne though. He managed to steal her course notes and hide them up in the ceiling. She never found them.

Unfortunately, my winning streak was not to last. In 11th grade literature we were forced to read The Last of the Mohicans, one of the dryest and most boring books ever. Boosted by our previous cheating success, Richard and I had gone all out and decided to bring the Cliff's Notes to the test. Miss Gray was a little smarter and I got busted inside five minutes.

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