A thirty-year-old mother attended her daughter's middle school in El Paso. She represented herself as being her own seventh grade daughter. She got away with it for six periods, until in seventh period a teacher called her out. She was masked, which had helped, but had removed the mask to eat lunch. Not even her older appearance had aroused suspicions.
According to the El Paso Times, the mother was arrested on charges of criminal trespass and tampering with government records. She was released on bond of $7,908. She claims that she was just trying to prove how lax security is in public schools. Hmm. Ok.
The El Paso mother's exploit brings back memories. I did something similar the summer after graduating from college and awaiting post-graduate work. I'll confess it, only because I'm certain that the statute of limitations has run.
A friend from school, still an undergraduate, visited my home for a couple of weeks. We were bored. University classes would not begin for several weeks, but the local high schools were about to open. My friend thought it would be cool to attend high school for a day. I'll call him John. (John went on to hold a surprisingly high position in the federal government, and probably would prefer that his real name not be used.) I wasn't really interested. Or rather, I was interested, but I was justifiably chicken. John was never chicken. Not always wise, but never chicken.
John was very persuasive. Eventually, I gave in.
We couldn't do it in my old high school -- teachers would recognize me immediately. But we felt safe attending school in a neighboring town. We dressed in what we considered to be then-popular high school clothes, which were already different from those we had worn four years earlier. We stood outside the school and cased the joint. I had attended games at this school, but had never actually been inside the academic building.
We walked in. Unlike the El Paso mom, we weren't wearing masks. I prayed nothing would go wrong, although it never occurred to me that I might be charged with criminal trespass.
High schools are high schools, and once inside it all felt familiar. Only four years earlier I'd been in high school, but four years might as well be a couple of decades when you're 22. First day of school, and everyone was a bit confused. We found that the first order of business was to be an all-school opening assembly. We walked into the auditorium. No one gave us a second look. High school kids come in all shapes, sizes, and apparent levels of maturity, and we both looked young for our age.
The assembly was boring of course, but my adrenaline level was high. I didn't get drowsy. When it was over, everyone headed for their first period classes. We didn't have schedules. I don't think we had thought through to this stage. The halls were beginning to empty.
John muttered, well, maybe we should leave? Yes, yes, oh yes! I thought. And thanks, John, for being the person to suggest it.
So my story peters out. Sorry if I aroused higher expectations. We left the high school behind to the high schoolers, hopped in the car, and gladly returned to our real lives as high school graduates and university students. We learned nothing from our experience. Absolutely nothing. It added not one whit to my lifetime accumulated wisdom.
Except, perhaps, that I'm not the sort of guy who is cut out to be a crook. And that, unlike that odd woman in El Paso, you gotta know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em! Especially when to fold 'em.
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