Guest Post: The Infamous Lucy

The post I wrote the other day, about when I met Steve, got me thinking about a few things. Like, how I was still at school when we met. Which means this time of year is exam time for many students out there.

That, then, prompted me to think about doing a post about my school days. I wanted to write something fun, like my rebellious moments. Great! But when I realised the most rebellious thing I did at school was tell a teacher to 'shut up' (I know! crazy, I am), I decided I might need to borrow some stories. Because a post about how I sat in class, listened attentively, did my homework well in advance and got good marks could be slightly dull.

I decided to approach a few others about the antics of their school days - and I'm so glad I did, because you're in for some laughs this week! A few of my favourite bloggers and another non-blogging guest (okay, my class-clown husband) are joining me this week to share their stories of fun and rebellion.

Kickstarting it all is the gorgeous Lucy of Diminishing Lucy fame...

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When Megan asked me to write a guest post about my school days, my memories of my time at school came flooding back.

I attended a secondary school in England, from 1980 until 1987.

The school was located on the South Coast, and was a young school, by English standards. (It is just about to celebrate only its 50th anniversary.)

At a little over 700 students spread over an entire high school, it was, by today's standards, very small.

Which makes me wonder why on earth I ever thought that my mischief would go unnoticed?

The arrogance of youth, I suspect.

From the day I started, I was, I suppose, infamous.

From a locally known family of "characters" (my elder siblings had preceded me) the teachers’ reactions to me were amused but exasperated.

Our deputy head mistress, Miss Maple, took each and every first year class, for Religious Education, in order to get to know each pupil. She told me on my first day that she had no need to teach me, she knew my type already. And to let my skirt out please.

My housemaster was constantly "disappointed" in me, for "wasting ability". He has since told me he found my behaviours frustrating but amusing.

I was a good kid, to be honest.

I just talked too much, smoked in the toilets too often, made too little effort in an academically focused arena.

I performed in all of the school plays, and was involved in netball and hockey teams. My ability to work as a team was probably my best strength.

But I also graffitied at will; and played truant with alarming regularity.

My uniform was constantly "non standard" for a variety of reasons.

I did OK in the debating society and won the school literary competition some years.

I represented my school in public speaking at the same time I was hauled over the coals for swearing.

I left everything to the last minute and was a cheeky flirt. But, I never hurt anyone else, nor did I ever bully or taunt.

I headed up the sixth form committee when I was in my leaving year. I used my apparent ability to organise and influence (mostly) for the good.

They breathed a collective sigh of relief, I suspect, when I left. (I should add, I sailed away with better than expected exam results that took me swiftly to uni. I am not sure who was more surprised: the staff, my parents, or myself.)

The best friends I made at school at age eleven are still my closest friends now, despite distance.

I loved every moment of my school life.

I lived my school life to the full, in every sense.

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Thanks Lucy! Visit Lucy's blog, Diminishing Lucy, for lots of laughs and inspiration, and chat to her on Twitter.