For as long as I can remember the social sciences have fascinated me. Political discourse was an everyday part of my home life growing up. In May of 1974, just after my tenth birthday, I rushed out to by the White House Transcripts as soon as it hit the shelves. Richard Nixon's political downfall fascinated me. I wonder if the light would shine so brightly on Presidential malfeasance today?

I graduated from St. Mary’s Grammar school June 9th 1978. During my final year there I was the male representative for history at a regional scholastic competition. An honor conferred for what my teacher knew I could do, not for what I had done. Miss Lewis rode me mercilessly for failing to do homework and gave me grades which reflected that failure.

My first public school history teacher was indifferent and uninspiring. I can’t even remember his name. The text book we used greatly compounded his faults. It was the same one we had used two years prior in seventh grade at St. Mary’s. Most of my class time was spent reading and rereading the Lord of the Rings. I just barely passed.

In 10th grade I had Mr. Arnold. He was my favorite teacher and I was certainly one of his favorite pupils. Mr. Arnold may have been the worst dressed teacher ever. His checkered blazers and pants could make you dizzy. He would often talk to me about how frequently students rights were violated. Perhaps he hoped I might try to do something about it. But I had other things on my mind. It was during this school year that I began to party

We were using my old 8th grade book but Mr. Arnold brought much more to it. His lectures were interesting and entertaining. His basis for grading included quizzes, tests, and class participation. So it was straight A’s in that class for me.

Sitting next to me in Mr. Arnold’s class were Rob Sutyak and Frank Miranda. Neither possessed much love for the study of history. But Frank and Rob did almost always possess marijuana. Potentially a classic win-win situation.

Rob and Frank began bringing loose joints on test days. All three of us took Mr. Mitchell’s Metal Shop class the year before and had become friends. So I didn’t gouge them or anything. But in America there aint no such thing as a free lunch. Enough correct answers to pass the test generally cost them two joints each.

At the time we all thought we were slick. But now I have to wonder if Mr. Arnold knew about our arrangement. For him getting Frank and Rob through history for the year and me extracting whatever I got out of them may both have been desirable outcomes.