Don’t tell me you rebroadcast it for profit? :eek:
I sort of have something similar to the OP.
Back in High School, I used to sell my computer programs to people in the same class. For two bucks, they could copy the program I wrote and alter it a bit so that it wouldn’t be identical.
I made some good cash.
Back in HS (notice how many of these are back in high school?) I had a fairly major project that I’d forgotten to do. It was the kind of class that I never bothered to remember to do the work for after school; I was easily cruising through the class and would do the homework during lunch or “reading period,” and when something came up that I had to actually prepare for, I’d been flummoxed and completely forgotten.
As the rest of the class passes their work forward (in neat binders) I quailed. That night, I worked my ass off and completed the project, also with a cheap binder. Of course, actually admitting to not turning it in would be instant failure, so really there was no point to doing it now. The next day, the instructor said that he was going to hand them back today, but seemed to have lost half the projects. He read off a list of people whose projects had gone missing, and of course my name came up.
I turned mine in the next day, and told him that if since paper was cheap and I’d had an extra binder I’d gone ahead and made another copy so he could grade it. I’m not sure if he bought it, but he took it anyway and I got an A. A few days later he reported that the missing projects had turned up (maid misplaced them). I was waiting and waiting for him to call me on the fact that there wasn’t a double of my report in there, but he never did.
Uh oh. Here goes.
In HS, I had a friend who was quite good at the hacking arts. For some reason, he hacked into the school’s computer system and copied all they keys to the quizes/tests/assignment codings to a disk and gave it to me. I used them (altered, of course. Never got about an 85 because I SUCK at C++). Memorized about 90% of the final. Probably the ONLY reason I passed that class.
At Ozzfest . . . 2000 near Houston, I had to drive my friend’s truck home because she was exhausted. However, the vehicles were all parked really closely together, and I managed to bump/scrap the van next to me 2 or 3 times (I’d never driven a truck before, only my little Saturn) before I made my friend drive out of the parking lot before I took over.
I skipped large chunks of PreCalc to go chat with an ex-gf in the bathroom. Did it almost every day, never got in trouble. Teacher probably thought I was sick or something. Failed 2nd semester, but I already had all the math credits I needed to graduate, and thus didn’t care.
I’m 20, and neither of my parents know I smoke OR that I’m bisexual.
For my Creative Writing Class in HS, we had to write a short story. For some reason, I had a wicked bad case of Writer’s Block. However, I had a pretty good story that I’d already written. So, I just changed the ending (original was too. . . oogey for school) and handed that in instead. I don’t know if that counts.
Many times in HS, I’d lie to my mom and said that I was staying the night with a girl friend, and stay the night at my boyfriend’s house. “Hi, Mom. Is it okay if I stay at Kate’s house tonight?” I know she didn’t know, because even after I moved out with The Cody, she wouldn’t allow us to be in my old bedroom packing up my crap with the door closed in the middle of the afternoon. No WAY she’d let me stay the night at a boy’s (I asked her if I could once I turned 18, and she said “no way in hell.” I was EIGHTEEN. Yeesh.).
I think that’s all.
I’ve felt terribly guilty about this for years.
I was taking a Shakespeare class in college, and we had to do a term paper. I really enjoy Shakespeare, but I just couldn’t get into doing this paper. I had about a third done when it was due.
I knew that if I finished it a week later I would still get credit, though knocked down. I was still working on it when the professor brought everyone else’s papers back and layed them on the desk for them to pick up. At first, I only went up to the table so that it wouldn’t be obvious that I hadn’t done my paper. I rifled through the pile of papers for a minute, trying to look appropriately confused.
Then I just had an inspiration to bluff. I knew that this professor was notoriously unorganized and his office was a disaster area. So I went up to him and asked where my paper was. He asked said that he wasn’t sure and asked what my topic was. I told him, and now he was bluffing when he said that he remembered it and thought it was pretty good. He said that he would find it and return it to me.
Of course, he never found the paper that didn’t exist. He gave me an A on it.
Well, I’ve officially tarnished the honorable image I’ve tried to cultivate over in Ask the Cop.
Just remembered this…
In 3rd grade we had a health test and there was one question that I couldn’t remember the answer for…I noticed that my teacher wasn’t looking so quickly looked it up in my book (The answer was “larnyx”)…
I would have felt guilty about that, in retrospect, no matter what, but things were compounded when she announced that there was only one perfect score on the test and that it had been mine…
In college I took a bunch of spanish classes. We had to write an essay once a week during class. Well, this was about my seventh year (combined with hs) of spanish classes and I couldn’t be bothered with actually having to be spontaneously creative, so I would write the essay the night before. But I was trickier than that - I would press really hard with the pen so that the words could be seen as depressions on the next page of paper - so all I would do the day of the essay test is write over the depressions. I got the higest grade in the class.
Ashamed? Hardly.
In my 10th grade biology class, we had to make a bug collection. I thought it was stupid, as I’d already had to make a bug collection in junior high and didn’t feel like I needed to run around chasing bugs again. I wanted to pass the class, though, but since I didn’t want to do the bug collection, I forgot about the project altogether.
I was walking around after school one day and saw a big stack of bug collections that were already graded, I assume that they were being thrown out because the owners didn’t want to keep them. I grabbed a couple and took them home, remounted the bugs and rewrote the labels and turned it in as my own.
In the same biology class, the teacher wrote me up once for saying “fucking” in class. Basically, I was being sexually harassed by a guy, who happened to be a football player, and since he was a football player, he was allowed to get away with everything. (Seriously, he didn’t get written up for coming in late, not doing homework, stealing my work and copying it, grabbing my legs/thighs when I was his lab partner…) I’d moved to the back of the class so I wouldn’t have to sit by him, and he started harassing one of my friends, calling them names and being a jerk, and I told him “Shut up, you’re so fucking stupid.” and was wrote up for that. When you got wrote up, you were supposed to sign the slip that the teacher wrote and go to detention that afternoon (Or the next afternoon, I don’t remember, it’s been a while.). I refused to sign it, since I was just sticking up for my friend and the other guy never got written up for anything, and instead wrote a big X acros the paper.
I was called into the principal’s office the morning after I was to have had detention, and asked why I didn’t go to detention. I told the principal that I didn’t sign the paper, so I didn’t think that I had to go. He told me that I did sign the paper and I told him to pull that one and look at it. He pulled i, looked at it, saw the X and AGREED WITH ME. I was so surprised.
In HS, I sat next to a nice guy, but a horrible student, in Physics class. Somehow, he could never quite get it. The day before the final, he said he was quitting to join the Marines, but that he had to pass this class, or they wouldn’t take him. The man practically begged me to help him…so I said I’d try.
The next day he said he forgot his calulator & got permission to share mine. I told the teacher that this was fie with me. Half way through the test, he whispers to me “I need the answer to 7 and to 13”. I put the answer to 7 in the memory & handed him the calculator. He handed it back…and then I entered the answer to 13 & handed it to him. After the exam, he gave me the most heart-felt thank you I’d ever seen.
I never saw him again.
Later, I’d learned that he had served in the Gulf War, had earned some medals, and came home to become a sucessful stock broker. He had gotten married, bought a nice home in central NJ, had 2 kids. He had really turned his life around. He had a great job with a firm that had a well respected name in Manhattan: Cantor Fitzgerald. And his birthday actually was September 11th.
Back in 1996 I got a speeding ticket in San Mateo county. Since I had no other tickets on record, they offered an online driving school course that you could take -go to their secure website, answer a million stupid questions, pay some amount, submit, get your score, then receive a “certificate of completion” page that you could print out and send to them as proof that you completed the course.
Their security on the “secure” website was woefully inaccurate. I hacked the source, found the “certificate of completion” page, created a score, printed it out and sent it to them.
Do I feel bad? Hell, no! STICK IT TO THE MAN!!! (Sorry Badge. :))
Oh, I did a few things here and there. Don’t feel bad about em at all.
In one of my French classes, the teacher was a great guy, but not too observent. So my friend would just leave his textbook wide open on the floor and everyone who happened to sit by him would answer as much as they could from it. He did it about half the year before the teacher actually saw the book. And then it was just “Oh, Monsieur Fakename, your book’s on the floor.” “Huh? Oh, yea, must’ve fallen outta my bag.”
In one of my science classes, the girl who sat next to me would copy my test answers. Since I was cool with her, when she told me, my reaction was, “Just don’t make it too obvious and mix some answers up. And we didn’t have this conversation.” Worked just fine.
Oh! And in college, someone offered me $50 to write a paper for em. Unfortunately, it was something like 15-20 pages. Just not worth it for all the work.
I had this one comp program class with only 4 people… We just played Diablo for the semester. Assignments were easy but time consuming so we’d just take turns writing code for each assignment then e-mail the final product around so we could each tweak the thing.
I got a 99 in that class.
When I was in the third grade, me and a couple of other kids got in trouble for something trivial. Staying out too late during recess, or something. As punishment, we were supposed to write a note explaining what we had done and have our parents sign it. For some reason, I decided I didn’t want to show it to my parents (it’s not like they would have much cared) and tried to forge my mom’s signature. I only made one mistake: I returned it the same day I was told to write it, before I’d even been sent home. Yeah, I was pretty much a moron when I was a kid. Teacher twigged to my little ruse pretty quickly. Phone calls were made, and I got into a shit load of trouble over it (mom’s a banker, and has very strong opinions about forgers). Needless too say, I’m not half as ashamed over the attempted dishonesty as I am over how incredibly bad the attempt was.
I got better in High School, where I routinely underachieved and disguised my poor grades by burning my report cards before my parents found them. They’d know that the semester was ending, and start asking about my report card, and I’d make excuses until they forgot about it (“Still hasn’t shown up. You know how they’re always late with those things.”) Then, when the next semester was about to start, they’d ask if it had ever shown up, and I’d say, “That thing? It got here, like, a month ago. You didn’t see it? I left it on the table. I’m not sure where it is now. I got mostly Bs, and an A in English.” And they’d always fall for it.
I once ditched school to smoke some cheeba with a friend, and after we had to leave our initial smoking spot because some people showed up, we decided that the best place to do it would be in my car with the windows at least partially rolled down, parked on a side street somewhere near school.
So we found such a place, and parked there, and proceeded to smoke. I realized when we were almost done that there was a good possibility that, due to the location we chose, everyone clear down to the next major intersection (which was one of our school’s exits) could clearly see us because of the way the road angled up. (Again, we were already a bit high when we chose this location). I was, however, too stoned to do anything about it when I made this realization…so the next day as I drove to school I decided to go into school that way and check how well I could see our smoking spot from the day before. As it turned out, anyone leaving school from that exit at the time would have been able to see me leaning out of the driver’s side window of my car holding a pipe to my mouth and smoking. :eek: Nothing ever happened to either of us, so apparently nobody was leaving school who would’ve objected to such behavior (or at least, nobody who would’ve reported it or would be in a position to punish us).
Leaving school in the middle of class to do illegal drugs…I’d say that’s pretty bad.
Reminds me of another one of my school stories. One day our school was playing a game called “The World Game” in the commons area (it involved some save-the-Earth group–I don’t mean that in a bad way, I want to save the Earth as much as the next guy, it’s just that their game was boring as hell), and one of my friends and I decided that going to a movie would be more interesting. So we acted like we were going to the bathroom, left school and went to see “2 Fast 2 Furious”. We didn’t come back to school afterward.
Well, everyone was supposed to return to their classes after the World Game; my friend and I, of course, didn’t, because we were in a movie theatre several miles away. Both of our teachers counted us present anyway, and my teacher assigned a one-page reflection report, to be written and turned in in class that day. I never wrote the reflection, and got a 100% on it. It was never brought up, nor was the fact that I wasn’t in class that day.
I thought that teacher really hated me too. (I think he does, actually. Maybe he was having a nice day and felt generous.) It’s particularly weird, because I had ditched his class another time earlier that year (an adventure in and of itself–I had to dart around the computer area to avoid him seeing me before his class started) and he called me on it at lunch that day. I think I claimed that I had fallen asleep in the computer area and slept clear through that class period. He basically just said try not to do it again.
Sheesh. I am so boring. Or maybe too honest.
Quite the opposite in my experience. Having not handed in a high school geography essay I borrowed a friend’s and copied it. When I got it back it had received a barely passing grade. This was a shock since I had copied quality work. I stupidly approached my teacher and instigated a conversation like this:
Me: Can you tell me why I received such a low grade for this assignment?
Him: Well, it is clearly inadequate. You’re lucky to get a pass.
Me: Well why was the same essay worth so much more when ______ submitted it 3 weeks ago?
My reward was a suspension.
ROFLMAO, don’t ask, that ranks up there with “how come it doesn’t taste sweet, then?” …
Mine: My ancient 27 year old car was really and truly an albatross – I wasn’t a good enough mechanic to maintain it in all the places and ways that a car that old tends to be wearing out in, and it was becoming a black hole into which all my meager money was going – so I let it go and didn’t pay the hundreds of dollars of fines and tickets, didn’t renew the registration, and my driver’s license lapsed as a consequence. This was in '93.
Quite a handful of years later, I needed to fly down to Florida and meet up with my girlfriend, renting a car and showing up with it at the hotel she’d be staying at. Somehow it fails to flash across my mind that this arrangment entails me being the vehicle pilot. I make the arrangements over internet and telephone and give Visa card# and whatnot and the subject of driver’s license doesn’t come up.
Get off plane in Florida and walk up to the counter to get the car, and they ask for my license. Oops. So I take out my five-years-out-of-date NY driver’s license and hand it to them and try to think of something clever to say when they notice, but they don’t notice, they just glance at the pic and photocopy the thing and hand it back along with the keys.
Another one involving driver’s license, this one dating back to circa 1986 or so. Back then, not owning a vehicle, I’d not bothered with the hassle of NY Dept of Motor Vehicles (notoriously long long long lines back then) and therefore still had my Georgia license (still valid, unexpired). I go into a 24-hour convenience store to buy a six pack of beer and not only do I get carded (I’m 27 at the time) but the store clerk won’t accept anything other than a valid NY license. I can’t convince her that a valid license from another state is adequate proof of age (so would an expired license be, for that matter, I don’t need to be a “licensed drinker”, just a person certifiably old enough to buy alcoholic beverages). So I go to the deli down the street instead. Next weekend, late at night, the 24-hour place is the only open place selling beer for a couple miles and I’m a pedestrian college student, and the same overzealous counter person in on duty. I snag a six, read the price and calculate the tax, pull out bills sufficient to cover it, and walk past the counter dropping the bills in front of her and head out the door without stopping as she yells after me.
Actually, I’ve got a lot of these kinds of stories, I’ve thought of two more. Comes with being a bit of a “space cadet” with a general disinterest in what the book says, I guess.
don’t ask , that’s pretty funny. I’d guess the teacher was gonna let you squeak by on your plagarism until you directly admitted to it.