I hated school but I, as I still do now, enjoyed chaos. I'm afraid to say I was one of the
"goth kids" who hung around the art block smoking and looking moody and deep pretentious (I still look pretentious but I know now, that's better). One day the bigger and meaner children were kicking their footballs at us when one, out of many many flying highspeed footballs, didn't hit any of us in the face and instead cracked the window behind us.

We had fun peeling glass of the magical-saftey-glass-stickyness and then feigned ignorance (ha) when teachers came over to demand to know what had happened.

The next day.. actually the next day it was replaced with some boards. Ignore this bit.

A few days later it was replaced but it was different! It was made of plastic. It took about four minutes to realise it was possible to take a running leap at the window and pop it out of its frame. It made a fun noise and was a good test of bravery and skill: if you didn't hit it with enough force you'd just bounce back onto the horrible concrete, hit it with too much force and you'd concuss yourself on the corridor wall opposite. No - if you did it correctly, you'd coolly land, on both feet, in the hallway and all the girls would suddenly change their minds about you and your friends being weird.

This was all fine and we strangely never got caught, until the day we did get caught, and it wasn't as if someone just saw us do it - as much as they were on the other side of the window and were quite violently squashed against the wall by a pimply youth who had overestimated the "perfect speed to pop the window". Apparently it looked like when you press your face up to a window. I don't know why.
( stevierar, Fri 9 Sep 2011, 0:41, Reply)