It is suggested that students mature while in college. However, maturity is essentially the ability to identify and, most importantly, avoid potential, what I call, “what-was-I-thinking” moments. Of course, it is inevitable that all human beings will look back on an event of his/her life with discomfort and uncertainty. While it is necessary, simply recognizing one’s past faults is not sufficient in one’s maturation process. The ability to foresee the outcome or otherwise evaluate the risk of a personal decision denotes an advanced level of maturity.
While in 3rd grade, though only briefly, I managed to earn several school detentions for my “disruptiveness.” I had a tendency to finish my class work quickly and have enough time to help my fellow students correct some of their errors before the time allotted to that subject was complete. Apparently, my “help” was not well received and on several occasions resulted in a chalked “Arneatha” across the top of the blackboard. The teacher says “disruptive”; I say “helpful”. Tomato; Tomato.
After my name on the board received its second mark, I was given a notice of detention to take home to my mother for her signature. I was well aware of the consequences of receiving another disciplinary notice from school. Simply put, it was imperative that I avoid notifying my mother. I was faced with a dilemma; how do I get my mother’s signature? I concluded that I could not simply forge the signature because I was sure that they would have several copies of my mother’s signature (from previous detention slips) with which to compare my failed attempt at forgery. No, it would have to be her unique and intricate autograph.
If ever there was a light bulb protruding from my cranium, I am confident that it was as bright as the North Star once I stumbled upon my foolproof master plan. I decided that I would cut and paste her signature from some other document to my detention notice. In addition to the protruding light bulb, I imagine there was a victorious laugh of some sort upon finding this idea. As I carefully cut my mother’s signature from a permission slip, that I scanned and copied so as not to inhibit me from attending the outing, I can remember slowly tracing the tall “J” so as not to leave too much empty space. I even folded the signature to be able to cut the white space in the loops of the cursive “J” and “q” for blending purposes (I was quite thorough in my execution).
It goes without question that, although I attempted to be as thorough and meticulous in my sculpting, I still managed to overlook something. The detention slip was printed on green paper and my signature was printed on white paper. Ignorant to this fact (and the overall ridiculousness of this plan), I turned my deceptive art project in to my teacher. With no immediate response I was sure that my plan had worked (this is probably where another victorious laugh occurred). The day continued uninterrupted and I immediately logged this entry as 1-Arneatha, 0-teacher as I prepared to leave school.
Just as I was leaving the classroom, my teacher handed me an envelope and instructed to me to give it to my mother. Since I had already claimed victory, I accepted the envelope expecting it to be another permission slip or possibly my grades but either way, it was most likely harmless. As I handed my mother the envelope, she stopped me with frustration and confusion on her face. She opened the envelope and unveiled my masterpiece. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the three-dimensional signature sitting atop a healthy puddle of Elmer’s glue. She could not contain her amusement and instead burst out in laughter. I felt my protruding light bulb retreat and the victory in my voice fade as I watched the blood rush to my mother’s face as she bounced at the hilarity of the detention slip.
At eight, I produced one of my favorite “what-was-I-thinking” moments. Now at twenty-one, I will not claim to have ceased production of failed attempts and poor decisions. I am sure that when I am forty-one I will examine the previous twenty years to find several more. What will remain constant is that, by taking the time to acknowledge those moments, I reduce my chances of repeating them.
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