The apology my fourth grade teacher really deserves...

It was the year 2003.

I was in fourth grade.

My dad had just recently started letting me say "crap". It was a privilege that was revoked within 24 hours because my sister and I literally said it in every sentence - even when it made zero sense given the context of the sentence.

But the 24 hours I was allowed to say it was....magnificent. It sparked in me a new interest and love for cuss words. This was very unfortunate for my fourth grade teacher....Ms. Jones.

I already had a resentment against Ms. Jones because one time, I had asked to go to the bathroom and since someone was already in there - she wouldn't let me go. I tried to wait but after about five minutes, I knew I couldn't wait any longer. I got up from my desk and sprinted down the hallway but, mid-sprint, I peed all over myself. I had to walk to the office, pants all wet with urine, and call my mom to ask her to bring me some clean clothes. I was devastated.

That incident took place right around the time that I discovered the art of cussing. And because I had this brewing resentment against Ms. Jones, I came up with a plan to get back at her. And I knew just the thing to do. But I'd have to be smart about it, and for the most part, I was.

I started writing cuss words on pieces of paper and putting them around the room - under kids' desks, tucked in the center of books in the library, under the bean bags, on top of the pencil sharpener, and in other various places. In the beginning, I was hiding maybe one a day but it became addictive and by the end of my spree, I was hiding about 5 a day. I remember that when a student would find one, they would get this shocked look on their face and power walk to Ms. Jones' desk. She would then look around the room, observing the students, trying to find out who it was. She would console the distraught student, telling them it was okay and to return to their seat. Every time this would happen, a surge of serotonin would hit me and I just wanted to do it more and more.

But I knew I had to get creative or I would get caught. So, I started writing the cuss words with my left hand so it did not look like my hand writing. This went on for several months, I probably put about 200+ cuss words around the room on ripped up pieces of paper. To this day, I don't even know if all of them were found.

But I made a mistake, I never put one under my desk. After several months had passed, everyone turned in a piece of paper to her....except me. She started to recognize that I was probably the culprit. I knew she was onto me. When a kid would take one to her desk, she would look directly at me. I started getting nervous. This ended my spree but I had hid so many, that kids were still taking them to her desk, long after I had stopped.

Then...she called my mom. She told my mom what had been happening and that she thought it was me. My mom said that it couldn't have been me. Flash forward about 20 years... I finally tell my mom that it was me... that it had been me all along. I tell her the full story and we share a few laughs about it. But, to this day, the thought still crosses my mind and I do still wonder if Ms. Jones is still getting those papers brought to her desk. As an adult, I have to say that I do feel a little bad about it so this is me coming clean...Ms. Jones, I'm sorry.