I graduated from a private Christian school. There were thirteen kids in my graduating class. I wasn't always so sheltered, as I attended public school up until my parents forced me to transfer halfway through tenth grade. But that is neither here nor there, and I wouldn't want to say anything that would taint y'alls image of me. (snort!)
Life at private school was...interesting. I got in trouble for many things, a few of them being, in no particular order: wearing more then one earring in each ear, using the office phone to make my tanning appointments, wearing a skirt that was .87643 inches too short per dress code, hot tubbing with the opposite sex (no, we didn't have a hot tub on premises, they found out by a note I passed under the table), highlighting my hair, making out in the art closet and one very, very unfortunate incident with a *Redbook magazine.
See, what happened was at lunch time, a few girls piled into my candy apple red Ford Probe and someone picked up a Redbook magazine that was laying on the dash. That someone then proceeded to read out loud an article on "what sexual favor men love most and how to do it right." Turns out a certain prude in attendance was highly offended by said article, and when we returned back to school from lunch, she went and told on us.
The girl who read the article out loud was called to the principals office, and because the magazine belonged to me, I was also in trouble. I will never forget, sitting there in front of the principal, trying in vain not to bust out laughing as my accomplice burst into tears. And then, oh and then we were forced to apologize to the entire school for permitting something so sinful to take place. Into a microphone, at Wednesday's chapel service. Try not laughing at that one.
Oh yes, and then there was that one time, when me and the supposed "bad boy" of our school made out for hours on end downstairs at my grandparents house. I left the room and assumed he was following me, until I looked back and saw through the open crack of the door, there he was, kneeling at the edge of the bed, on his knees, hands clasped, in which I can only conclude he was asking God for forgiveness. To this day, the question that haunts me is, was I that bad? Or was I that good?
I could not make this shit up if I tried.
Now I know what you are thinking. That my experience at private school and the tight restrictions is what made me the rebellious crazy person I was for the first part of my early twenties. But remember, I got sent there in the first place because I was a rebellious crazy person. So, mom and dad, looks like your private school money was well spent. How you like them apples?
Besides. Some of the worst (read best) people I know came from that school.
*The Redbook in question was my moms.
**Hell yes I memorized that article.