When I was in high-school I used to get into massive amounts of trouble over the whole
memorial day thing.
I was a bit of a goth, which means I wore black and black only. Problem! You're suppose to show up wearing the national colours on memorial day - blue bottoms, white top. Since I'm not exactly a morning person, I would always forget about the clothes thing until it was too late and a teacher was already yelling at me.
In my penultimate year in high-school, I was just hiding out in the library after the periodic bollocking on Holocaust memorial day, listening to my walkman and trying to keep out of trouble, when I noticed a worried librarian hovering over me with a questioning face.
Now there are a few things that need to be said about my school at this point. It was very progressive. And very liberal. Very anti-religious and very left wing in its political outlook. It made rebelling a bit difficult because there wasn't much left to rebel against. It was that kind of place.
So anyway, I take the earphones out of my ears and the librarian (whom I've always been afraid of) goes "Why didn't you stand at the siren? It had just sounded". Now, I had two options: admit that a teacher yelling at me upset me so much that I was brooding in solitude (bad) or come up with an on-the-fly political opinion (good). Guess which one I chose. I don't remember what I told her, exactly, but it earned me looks of polite horror mixed with admiration from the hushed population of the library, at which point I lost my nerve and bolted.
The following year, the weight of expectation on me was too heavy to endure. I cut class and went to the University grounds next door to swig soda in the sun and smoke.