Volume CLXXI: The Super Natural Son Day Short Stories Edition; More Chess Metaphors

Hello every One, and welcome to the Super Natural Short Stories Edition, thank King You for joining Me. In the Fabulous Free Lance Friday Edition I was tall King about how the game of chess was a metaphor for My Life in many Ways. In Wednesday’s Witches, Wizards and Warlock’s Edition, I was tall King about how much I Wish to Focus on the things I Truly Love – like Writing this Blog, Painting My Portraits, and Playing some serious chess. Today’s Super Natural Short Stories Edition is remaining True to My Wishes as I Will be sharing a ‘Super Natural’ short Story from My youth.

There is an expression ‘hindsight is twenty-twenty’, and I am thing King it is one of those expressions One comes to appreciate more as We acquire higher levels of Life experience. My youth could never have seemed unusual to Me in any Way because what would I have to compare it with? I would never have any reason to believe I was perceiving the world any differently than any other child would. Of course, I would later discover that I perceived the world much differently from others because of the relationship I had with God. I just had no Idea that’s what it was.

But nothing about My early childhood education is what most People would consider ‘normal’. I completed roughly two and a half years of My junior education in Edinburgh, Scotland, the rest I did here in Canada. Just to mix it up a little more for You, they begin school a year earlier in Scotland, so I was advanced a year every time I would start school in Scotland… And I would effectively be put back a year when I returned to Canada (though it was the ‘proper’ grade for My years). This was all just to Keep Me with children My own age.

My education was anything but ‘normal’, I just didn’t have anything else to compare it to. In grade three We were taught about Canada’s parliamentary and legal system, the importance of the Queen, and how it is not a symbol of authority, it is a symbol of equality, reminding Canada’s People We are Sovereign. We also had the Universal Declaration of Rights and Freedoms on one of the classroom walls. Grade three – and I remember it!

Virtually nothing about My early childhood education was normal but I didn’t even learn how True that was until I was twenty-one. I’d quit high school with six credits left to go because I didn’t Wish to start at another new school. That meant living on My own for the first time (well intentioned to work part time to pay My rent and finish school) but I ended up working full time and never going to class. So I moved back home, humbled at twenty to finish My final year. It was definitely the most memorable.

I didn’t have Friends at this school, I didn’t care what People thought, I just wanted to be done. I only had one compulsory credit left, grade eleven math, the rest were all ‘electives’, or at least what I consider to be electives. They were called OAC credits and they count as university credits, six equal first year university. This school had thirteen OAC credits for English studies alone, so I took as many as I could. Five OAC credits and one grade eleven math credit and I would be done school with first year university in the bag to boot.

Well, being nobody at the new school didn’t work out quite the Way I’d planned. It never really occurred to Me that My sister might already be cool and popular and now I’m the older brother. Like it or not, I was cool by association. Protesting how ‘uncool’ it was to be associated with My sister only made Me that much cooler, there was no win, I was destined to make Friends. Once again, I started going to school when I felt like it.

Nothing about that seemed unusual to Me. I do remember the grade eleven math teacher telling Me that each weekly test would establish Our final grade average for the semester. The teacher could deduct an additional ten percent for attendance. That sounded perfectly fair to Me. I’d go on Monday’s and Friday’s for sure, the rest of the week would depend on My enthusiasm for math that day. Tests were always on Friday. I had no interest in acing the course, I just wanted to guarantee it was done. My grade going into the final exam was 92% and that’s including whatever the teacher deducted from Me for My attendance. The final exam was worth 30%. A passing grade is fifty.

On the day of the final exam, I went in to Write the test, Signed My name and date at the top, then handed the paper back in and told the teacher I was done. I was expecting a 62% grade, that would have been fine – My OAC credits are for the universities. The teacher gave Me an incomplete, rather than the credit. I was furious!!!

This isn’t just an incomplete, it is the only thing standing between Me and the official high school graduation document. I barely went to class, had 92% going in and they want Me to take it again?! Are they insane? So I take the Matter to My guidance counsellor, and this is My first ‘official’ meeting with him.

He tells Me that My English teachers love Me, and he thinks I would Love their English programs. He tells Me about an (OAC) English Creative Writing course he thinks Will round out My education portfolio perfectly, and he’s going to ‘waive’ the requirement for the grade eleven math course in favour of an OAC of My choosing. So I agreed to one more ridiculous semester of school in exchange for a diploma with seven OAC’s instead of six, and one less pre-requisite course.

I’m telling You, I couldn’t make up Stories this Good. The very first assignment I hand in to My new OAC teacher is withheld from Me on the day all other students receive the assignment back. Why? Because it’s too Good. Not even joking, those were the teacher’s exact Words. She then went on to tell Me she believes it’s a forgery, plagiarism, she just isn’t sure of the source yet, ‘but give me some time, it will come to me.’ – it won’t because it wasn’t a forgery!

I never did get that paper back, though it is one of My Secret missions. I went back to My guidance counsellor and told him that I Wish to see the teacher charged with defamation of Character, making libelous statements about Me, and demand that she Hand over My paper. I told him she has no right to judge Me and no right to grade My paper – I just want it back. He very calmly was as King of Me to come and meet him in his office, he believes he has a solution for Me.

Before I continue, do You Notice any similarities here? I didn’t know anything about the law back then! But I knew what was done to Me was criminal! I already didn’t like that someone was Judging My Writing Style, much less saying that I was copying some One else. Maybe that’s Part of the reason I use capital Letters now, to emphasize the fact that My Style of Writing is Original, My Creative Express-Ion, My Way of making Magic.

What happened next is even more unusual, though I tell the tale of it in My Book, too. My guidance counsellor very candidly was as King of Me why I was in school at all. He could tell I was shocked and surprised by the question, ‘are We not all supposed to graduate high school?’.

“Sean, I know You don’t care what teachers think, so why do You care about a diploma?”

He was so correct that I was even more speechless. I don’t even care about the diploma, I just thought it was something everyone has to do. Eventually, I come back with, “Well, I might not care what teachers think, but I’m pretty sure My Mum does.”

“That’s what I thought. Here, I have a Special Gift for You.”

He hands Me every single thing I have ever produced for school that ‘they’ have a Record of. Who’s ‘they’? Your guess is as Good as mine. Ontario school board in this case, most likely. But when I say everything, I mean everything. From the earliest of My school years, notes on My report card to parents, everything.

Keep in Mind, it is one thing for Me to tell You that the government of Your country knows infinitely more about You than You likely know of Your Self, it is something quite extraordinary to get a glimpse of it with One’s own eye. Talk about a flashback down memory lane. And when I said that I did not even fully grasp the magnitude of this Gift at the time, that is True, too. It was not until another English teacher of mine who offered to edit My Book commented on this Story and was as King of Me if it’s True. He told Me that the guidance counsellor would have had to go to great lengths to get those records for Me and would lose his job if the school board knew what he had done. I now believe it was the school board that Ordered it to be done.

From the time I was eighteen and onward, I only went to class when I felt like it. I thought it was perfectly normal for students to do this once they were of their own legal right of age. I don’t need a Mum to Sign notes anymore, I Give My Self a day off whenever I Wish. Only once do I ever really remember being called down to the office for it in any serious Way. I got Called on the PA out of class to see the vice principal immediately and the class oohed as One would expect, at least one classmate calls out, “You’re getting suspended”.

It was always entirely possible that I might be, too. But what for? Attendance? Do they really suspend or expel People for that? Turns out they do. But not Me. I was never really sure why, I thought I made convincing arguments. Maybe I did. Apparently, I’d missed more days in a single semester than any other student on the school’s history. The Quest-Ion was why should I not be suspended? I replied with something like, “Well, I’m not sure who it is You are hoping to punish but I think it’s pretty clear that I don’t really enjoy coming to school, so the only one You’re going to upset is My Mum. And frankly, I don’t think My Mum needs the hassle unless I’m flunking out of My classes and I’m pretty sure that I’m not. If I’m an adult, then why do You care how much I come to school if I am able to make the grade?”

I couldn’t tell You what the outcome of that meeting was, but I can tell You I was never officially suspended after that. I think I had been suspended once before that and there was just never a meeting about it (and I wasn’t yet (legally) an adult). The point is, they stopped bugging Me. I honestly don’t think they cared as long as I was in school. I think they had instructions to not ‘push’ Me out any faster than I already wanted out as it was.

But that file was My ‘graduation’ Gift. My guidance counsellor handed it to Me and told Me to Show it to My Mum.

“It is a much more Valuable Gift than any One else Will receive on their graduation. You ever Wish to go to university, You make sure You send them a copy of this, too. You Will go anywhere You Wish to go.”

So that’s how I graduated high school. See what I mean when I tell You nothing in My Life is ‘normal’? What is normal, anyway? I learned I was reading and writing at a grade eight to ten level in grade two. I learned they wanted to put Me with grade four students in grade two. I only remembered that after I received My graduation Gift and was tall King with My guidance counsellor about it. Being with grade four students was the lesser of the two evils, the other option was to send Me away to a different school. The thought of either one terrified Me enough as a child that I did not ever Wish for teachers to know how smart I was again. True Story.

Hope You enjoyed this his Story lesson from My past.

Love and Blessings,

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