When skipping school nearly became an art and a science

Skipping school became the norm during my senior year in 2008-09. I was so done with the place, that a two-hour delay turned into a day off. 

The ruse was simple. I’d wake up, get ready, take my old Chevy S-10 out onto the backroads, where mounds of snow piles flanked them. Then, I’d turn onto the main road, drive past the school, and go home. My parents were at work, and wouldn’t be back until between 5 and 6 p.m. So I had the entire place to myself.

While everyone else bored themselves with mundane lectures and schoolwork, I was busy taking education upon myself, albeit informally. I’d go home, play Madden ’08, or in this case, Madden ’09, and dive into franchise mode.

But I wouldn’t use any specific NFL team. Nah, I created myself an “expansion team,” kicked out the Houston Texans, and inserted the Los Angeles Sharks into the AFC South. Our colors were scarlet and gray, and the uniform had a traditional flair: gray helmets and pants, scarlet jerseys with block lettering, and red socks. The road uniform just swapped out the scarlet jersey for a white one, with red numbering. One uniform for home and one for the road. None of those stupid alternates you see plaguing the NFL today.

Our logo was a scarlet and gray shark leaping in front of a sunburst. As for the secondary logo that I slapped onto the helmets and sleeves? A scarlet shark’s fin with gray outlines.

The Los Angeles Sharks, I called them, since the Rams were in St. Louis then and the Chargers were in San Diego where they belong. Meanwhile, the Raiders still played in the good old O. Co Coliseum, where we still had a baseball field during certain months of the year.

Skipping school helped stir those dormant creative juices

For years, attending public school squashed out my creativity. I mean, God forbid, you try and create your own stories, write takes on sports, or do anything that didn’t conform to the “party line” in those prisons.

Write fiction? A classmate would steal it, read it, laugh at it, and hold it up for others to see. Happened more than a few times to peers. So I learned early to fall in line.

Get caught writing about or looking up sports because doing so engaged you more in reading and math? If and when a teacher caught you in the act, they’d speak loudly enough so the entire class knew. Once again, it wasn’t hard to fall in line if you wanted to avoid public humiliation.

It was one of many reasons I started skipping school. With a toxic atmosphere that masquerades as a benign, welcoming, and helpful one? Nearly every single teacher and administrator were liars if you ask me. And they’re still liars. To this day, they’ll act like public school is a sacred environment, only to turn around and prove the exact opposite.

My creativity was shot. And even if I didn’t know it at the time, that simple act of rebellion helped reignite the creative fuse.

Creativity prospered but the school took action anyway

While I was busy creating the Los Angeles Sharks and building them into a contender, controlling everything from the stadium design to its food prices (franchise mode in Madden used to kick ass before it started to fucking suck), my absence didn’t go unnoticed.

Ultimately, the school sent a letter home, and would you believe it? That damn letter came the one day I didn’t check my parents’ mailbox. Yeah, I was looking out for it. Can’t remember why I didn’t check the box that day. Maybe I’d gotten overconfident and thought they wouldn’t send it. I dunno.

Whatever the case, I was on the verge of owing them restitution hours if I didn’t start going back. So I, begrudgingly, had no choice. No more skipping school for the rest of the year. But at that point, I was in it strictly so I could get the fuck outta there and never see the place again.

Still, it’s a sad, tragic tale. I was skipping school to satisfy something I didn’t even know was dormant. I also didn’t know it at the time, but it further sowed the seeds for just how ridiculous and unnecessary the entire ritual of attending public school was.

If I valued school, I never would’ve skipped it

How do you keep kids from skipping school? Unfortunately, most adults I’ve crossed use fear-mongering tactics. “You’ll end up in the poorhouse.” “You’ll make minimum wage, at best.” “You’ll never succeed.”

Unfortunately, I’ve rarely, if ever, seen people identify the root cause: Kids skip school because they don’t value it. That’s not on them, nor is it on the parents, as public school admins want you to think. It falls squarely on those “providing” the “service.”

Teachers, principals, administrators, and everyone involved with a public school’s structure and design are who you need to point the finger at. They’re responsible for forging such a monotonous environment that a lot of kids would rather stay away from.

Those are the people, often worshiped in the public sphere because, somehow, making money off other peoples’ paychecks is supposedly noble in this warped world we live in, who need to be held accountable. They’re not providing an adequate service, or else kids wouldn’t groan and grumble about going there.

And don’t be afraid to let these teachers and everyone in those administrations know that they constantly fall short. Don’t be afraid to let them know that their slick “marketing” tactics are full of lies. Lies that the State itself is fine with spreading while they brand free markets and the private sector as the enemy.

To sum it up: Don’t be afraid to let them know their publicly-funded “product” sucks. It squashes creativity, creates compliant drones, and stifles kids from reaching their true potential. If it didn’t, then, as far as my old school district goes, their endgame would go beyond employment, enlistment, and enrollment. It’d encourage entrepreneurship and innovation. Sadly, it won’t do that.

My answer to public and traditional schooling

One reason I wrote my YA fantasy, The Arcane Prophecy, was to provide a market-based alternative. Yote Diamondback has an interesting story, don’t get me wrong, but in the backdrop, she’s attending an academy that features 32 competing private schools, all of which must go above and beyond if it means retaining students and making money.

Yes, making money, because profits should be the endgame for anyone going into business unless they have serious brain damage. You’ll never see me apologizing for profits, nor will you see anybody at Arcane apologizing for charging money so they can provide a service. And if they must raise the price? Then by all means, raise it if it means maintaining that service.

So check out my first three chapters of The Arcane Prophecy. You’ll meet Yote, get an inside look on the rivalry she shares with her sister, Jett, and how she ends up at Arcane. If you’re a fan of YA fantasy that respects your intelligence and isn’t afraid to go the nontraditional route, then you’re gonna love The Arcane Prophecy. Check out the sample now.