Continuing the ongoing list of misadventures I've experienced.
Day 3, Episode 3: Circumventing "the Law" via "Documentary"
Unlike the Napkin-Forgery Incident (reference to an earlier post) my objective this time actually was to pull of a kind of scheme. My intentions were less than benign, I'll admit that openly. Which is what makes this particular story so interesting.
This, like the others, takes place in 10th grade, at the aforementioned Cyprus High. It was second semester and earlier I had somehow convinced the scheduling center and my AP European History teacher to allow me "Independent Study" in the library for seventh period, even though it was a program intended for juniors and seniors. (Never underestimate a bit of charm combined with an air of confidence and business savvyness). My friend Matt arranged the same, via the argument "Well, one kid do it - so you have to let me." And very shortly into the semester we managed to get a class period that was entirely devoted to nothing.
But what we didn't expect was the strictness, meanness, and overall lameness of the two librarians. Who watched whatever we did over our shoulders, and would often snap at us for talking, napping, or aimlessly browsing the web in the library. "If you don't have homework to do, then go back to your AP Class." Which, given how boring that class was, was not an option. So, after a week of pretending to do homework and whispered conversations, their hawkish gaze became intolerable - and we devised the following plan to deal with it.
First we recognized our goals:
1. We need free access to the school.
This was difficult, because actual policemen roam the halls and write truancy tickets to anyone out of class without a hall pass. I snuck past them several times (especially in later years) but risking that every day meant I was going to get busted eventually. So we needed a way to get around them and their "authority."
2. We need to be able to leave the school at will. Or, at the very least, have a haven outside of the library. Our preference was to go home - if possible. But the chemistry teacher's class would do. Because we were (at the time) friends of his, and he had a backroom for the express purpose of slacking off.
So, with these objective in mind, we decided on our plan of action - setting gametime for the next day.
I arrived at school at the usual time, 7:00 am. I met with Matt at the library. "Did you bring the camera?"
"Of course. It's in my locker."
"Good."
"And the tripod?"
"Yes."
"Do you have the questions ready?"
"No, but don't worry about it." (I was supposed to come up with a series of questions, but I planned on doing that at school. Based on some ideas the two of us had generated the day before.)
"Have you been to the principal's office yet?"
"No. let's go."
Together we went to the principal's office, and when the secretary greeted us I explained that we needed to talk to the principal regarding a project we were working on. She talked to him over the speaker phone and he invited us in. Briefly we explained how we were working on a documentary of Magna in general and Cyprus in particular, and asked if he would be willing to submit to an interview. He gladly accepted. And, like I thought, he was very encouraged to see ambitious, enterprising students coming from under his watch (at the most criticized, crappiest school in the state) - and he was ecstatic about the prospect of making himself look good on film. (I expected this. I'd previously heard rumors that the principal was egotistical and narcissistic. So I'd guessed this would be his achilles' heel.)
"Of course I would," he said. "When would you like to do this? Any time is fine for me. And do I need to wear anything special"
"No you're fine. We're going for the relaxed principal look, the kind that's easy for students to approach. So you're perfect. How does seventh period today sound?"
"Done. Will you be bringing in any equipment, cameras, lights, microphones."
"Not very much. We're bringing in a camera with a tripod. It has a good microphone built in, so there's no need for that." (I'd tried to get my hands on one of my brother's many microphones the night before - in an effort to look more professional, but had no success.) "So, we won't need an external mic. As for lighting if we close the blinds we should be fine."
"Ok, seventh period it is. Oh and do you two need late notes to get to class?" (it was now 20 minutes into first period)
The day continued and I scribbled a set of questions for him. But before I tell you about the interview, I want to better explain our plan.
We actually did intend to make the movie we said we would. But rather than highlight the best parts of Cyprus we intended to give it its worst depiction ever.
We were going to show the slummiest parts of the city, and the worst angles and images of the school.
I wish I had pictures of old magna residences, and abandoned businesses like "Doug's Color Shop" to really showcase how easy it would have been to make Magna look like crap. But here's an example of a theater.
Moving on ... the questions I wrote for the interview were meant to draw predictable responses from the principal, and then use them against him. For example we got him to talk about how clean the school was - and he boasted awards for cleanliness. Then we intended to intersplice that with shots of trash on the floor, etc.
Also, he was a somewhat large person - so we intended to create the image that he was a slob. He once belched during the interview and we planned on using that footage some eight times.
But worst of all was this question:
"If a teacher went above and beyond the call of duty, and helped a struggling student to really pick up their life and get excited at school--and excel at it. What would happen to that teacher. What would you do, if you knew about this?"
(This question was designed to get the exact response he gave us.)
Which went like this: "Oh that teacher would be singled out and receive an award and commendation. We would make it clear to parents and students that this is the kind of faculty we have. And we'd encourage the faculty to follow this teacher's example."
(Bingo.)
Our plan was to record different questions and so the answers he give would make him look bad. In this case we considered having the question be:
"What if a teacher attacked a student, and/or sexually assaulted them?" To which he'd appear to get excited and rave about how they'd bestow honors on that teacher, etc.
This is slander. 100% bonafied slander.
Though it turns out that kind of thing happens in Magna. remember this lady? Former teacher, convicted of multiple accounts of sex with a student.
After interviewing him for a whole hour, we wrapped things up. And then I pitched the idea to him that we needed some kind of non-expiring hall pass that gave us, basically, unrestricted access to the school and grounds (for the purpose of filming), during 7th period. He understood this and our request was granted.
We'd achieved our goal. Seventh period was completely ours - and the cops and their truancy tickets could do nothing about it.
in the end we never made the movie. We chickened out, feeling bad about being dishonest with the principal (if we fulfilled our plan) and we had no interest in making a fair documentary. The footage is long gone now. And nothing bad ever became of it. But we got our hall-passes. And to us, that was all that mattered.
But I have to say, officially, to Mr. Segers - I apologize.
Day 3, Episode 3: Circumventing "the Law" via "Documentary"
Unlike the Napkin-Forgery Incident (reference to an earlier post) my objective this time actually was to pull of a kind of scheme. My intentions were less than benign, I'll admit that openly. Which is what makes this particular story so interesting.
This, like the others, takes place in 10th grade, at the aforementioned Cyprus High. It was second semester and earlier I had somehow convinced the scheduling center and my AP European History teacher to allow me "Independent Study" in the library for seventh period, even though it was a program intended for juniors and seniors. (Never underestimate a bit of charm combined with an air of confidence and business savvyness). My friend Matt arranged the same, via the argument "Well, one kid do it - so you have to let me." And very shortly into the semester we managed to get a class period that was entirely devoted to nothing.
But what we didn't expect was the strictness, meanness, and overall lameness of the two librarians. Who watched whatever we did over our shoulders, and would often snap at us for talking, napping, or aimlessly browsing the web in the library. "If you don't have homework to do, then go back to your AP Class." Which, given how boring that class was, was not an option. So, after a week of pretending to do homework and whispered conversations, their hawkish gaze became intolerable - and we devised the following plan to deal with it.
First we recognized our goals:
1. We need free access to the school.
This was difficult, because actual policemen roam the halls and write truancy tickets to anyone out of class without a hall pass. I snuck past them several times (especially in later years) but risking that every day meant I was going to get busted eventually. So we needed a way to get around them and their "authority."
2. We need to be able to leave the school at will. Or, at the very least, have a haven outside of the library. Our preference was to go home - if possible. But the chemistry teacher's class would do. Because we were (at the time) friends of his, and he had a backroom for the express purpose of slacking off.
So, with these objective in mind, we decided on our plan of action - setting gametime for the next day.
I arrived at school at the usual time, 7:00 am. I met with Matt at the library. "Did you bring the camera?"
"Of course. It's in my locker."
"Good."
"And the tripod?"
"Yes."
"Do you have the questions ready?"
"No, but don't worry about it." (I was supposed to come up with a series of questions, but I planned on doing that at school. Based on some ideas the two of us had generated the day before.)
"Have you been to the principal's office yet?"
"No. let's go."
Together we went to the principal's office, and when the secretary greeted us I explained that we needed to talk to the principal regarding a project we were working on. She talked to him over the speaker phone and he invited us in. Briefly we explained how we were working on a documentary of Magna in general and Cyprus in particular, and asked if he would be willing to submit to an interview. He gladly accepted. And, like I thought, he was very encouraged to see ambitious, enterprising students coming from under his watch (at the most criticized, crappiest school in the state) - and he was ecstatic about the prospect of making himself look good on film. (I expected this. I'd previously heard rumors that the principal was egotistical and narcissistic. So I'd guessed this would be his achilles' heel.)
"Of course I would," he said. "When would you like to do this? Any time is fine for me. And do I need to wear anything special"
"No you're fine. We're going for the relaxed principal look, the kind that's easy for students to approach. So you're perfect. How does seventh period today sound?"
"Done. Will you be bringing in any equipment, cameras, lights, microphones."
"Not very much. We're bringing in a camera with a tripod. It has a good microphone built in, so there's no need for that." (I'd tried to get my hands on one of my brother's many microphones the night before - in an effort to look more professional, but had no success.) "So, we won't need an external mic. As for lighting if we close the blinds we should be fine."
"Ok, seventh period it is. Oh and do you two need late notes to get to class?" (it was now 20 minutes into first period)
The day continued and I scribbled a set of questions for him. But before I tell you about the interview, I want to better explain our plan.
We actually did intend to make the movie we said we would. But rather than highlight the best parts of Cyprus we intended to give it its worst depiction ever.
We were going to show the slummiest parts of the city, and the worst angles and images of the school.
I wish I had pictures of old magna residences, and abandoned businesses like "Doug's Color Shop" to really showcase how easy it would have been to make Magna look like crap. But here's an example of a theater.
Moving on ... the questions I wrote for the interview were meant to draw predictable responses from the principal, and then use them against him. For example we got him to talk about how clean the school was - and he boasted awards for cleanliness. Then we intended to intersplice that with shots of trash on the floor, etc.
Also, he was a somewhat large person - so we intended to create the image that he was a slob. He once belched during the interview and we planned on using that footage some eight times.
But worst of all was this question:
"If a teacher went above and beyond the call of duty, and helped a struggling student to really pick up their life and get excited at school--and excel at it. What would happen to that teacher. What would you do, if you knew about this?"
(This question was designed to get the exact response he gave us.)
Which went like this: "Oh that teacher would be singled out and receive an award and commendation. We would make it clear to parents and students that this is the kind of faculty we have. And we'd encourage the faculty to follow this teacher's example."
(Bingo.)
Our plan was to record different questions and so the answers he give would make him look bad. In this case we considered having the question be:
"What if a teacher attacked a student, and/or sexually assaulted them?" To which he'd appear to get excited and rave about how they'd bestow honors on that teacher, etc.
This is slander. 100% bonafied slander.
Though it turns out that kind of thing happens in Magna. remember this lady? Former teacher, convicted of multiple accounts of sex with a student.
After interviewing him for a whole hour, we wrapped things up. And then I pitched the idea to him that we needed some kind of non-expiring hall pass that gave us, basically, unrestricted access to the school and grounds (for the purpose of filming), during 7th period. He understood this and our request was granted.
We'd achieved our goal. Seventh period was completely ours - and the cops and their truancy tickets could do nothing about it.
in the end we never made the movie. We chickened out, feeling bad about being dishonest with the principal (if we fulfilled our plan) and we had no interest in making a fair documentary. The footage is long gone now. And nothing bad ever became of it. But we got our hall-passes. And to us, that was all that mattered.
But I have to say, officially, to Mr. Segers - I apologize.
