Interpretation by Jillynne Raymond
Once upon a time I cheated on a multiple choice test. I was in high school. It was a science test. I hated science. And math too, but this was science. If you know me now and if you’d known me then you would say: Whaaaaaaat? She’s a rule follower. She’s a good girl. She’s the girl that always covered up her paper so that cheaters wouldn’t try to cheat off of HER test!
Yet there I was, cheating. I wrote the answers on a long, slim piece of paper and slid them into my pen (also someone else’s idea).
A. C. D. A. B. B. C.
The entire time that I was cheating my hands were shaking, my eyes were darting, and my insides felt sick. When my test was returned to me with that red circled “A” staring me in the face I felt treasonous. It was holding someone else’s “A.” The teacher was smiling. That poor teacher actually thought he’d taught me something.
Or did he?
Maybe the teacher knew. Maybe my transparent shaking and eye-darting and head-cocking to get a better look at the answers on my slim cheat-sheet had given me away and he just let me implode and that implosion was the source of his guile.
Or maybe the real lesson had nothing to do with science. Maybe I’m a rule follower and good girl after all.
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