As a 2nd grader I committed a class A serious misdemeanor. When I was seven my family and I took a sabbatical year in Maryland because of my father's job. During this year I attended a small American primary school in English. For most American kids this would be a pretty normal thing but I had spent my entire life in a French public school where I had never studied in English. My first few months in this completely foreign environment were difficult. Some of the kids in my school would refer to me as, "that kid with the weird accent" or "French boy". I had quite a hard time fitting in at the school, always feeling like a foreigner even though I was American.

I tried everything I could to change the perception other students had of me. Asking my brother for clothing tips so I could seem cool, starting to wear loose clothes, sagging my pants, and wearing caps but none of it seemed to work. I thought maybe if I can't be the cool kid maybe I can be the funny one, but all my attempts at comedy just seemed to fail. I don't know if it was because of the cultural differences between me and the other kids that we just couldn't relate to the same kind of humor, or maybe I just wasn't funny, but I had to find something else I could be.

I was sitting in math class one day which was pretty much the only class I actually succeeded in, because one plus one is two no matter what language you are speaking in. Suddenly, I had thought of the perfect plan to change people's perception of me. I grew up with three older siblings so for a 2nd grader I already knew my fair share of bad words. I thought that maybe if I started using swear words It would make me seem cooler. I knew I couldn't just say it outloud, because then the teacher could hear me and I would get in trouble, so I came up with the awesome idea of writing it down on a small piece of paper and passing it to my classmate.  

For some reason at the time I thought that this was going to change everything. My next step was deciding what bad word to write down. I wanted to use the worst possible swear word I could think, so I thought to myself what is the word that my brothers use that angers my mother the most. The answer was pretty obvious, so I ripped a small piece of paper out of notebook and grabbed a pencil. I started with a big capital "F", then looked up to make sure the teacher wasn't looking. I could feel my heart rate increasing rapidly. What if she saw it? What if I got caught I would be screwed. I quickly jotted down the last three letters, "UCK", and flipped the paper over. I slowly slipped the note onto the desk next to me making sure it was still facing down, scared of getting caught. My classmate first looked at me with a puzzled look then he flipped it over. I felt like such a badass, this was my moment, I would finally be accepted.

When he read those 4 letters I expected him to laugh or maybe just sit there in awe at my pure awesomeness, but instead he instantly stood up, put his hand up, and yelled, "TEACHER!". I was speechless. Out of all the outcomes I had considered for how this would go I never expected this. The teacher strided towards our desk and he handed her the paper. I knew she would tell my parents. I knew my life was over.

The teacher, who was obviously upset, wrote a long paragraph explaining the situation and asked me to get one of my parents to sign it. I spent the rest of the day thinking about how  I could explain this to my parents. I could say that my classmate was lying, that I didn't write it but they would never believe me. I could apologise profusely, say that I immediately regretted it but then I would definitely still get grounded. Then I came up with another amazing idea. A few days ago I had been given another form to sign for class. I could get my father to sign the form then just copy his signature.

When I got home I gave my father the form to sign. He quickly scribbled his signature at the bottom, barely looking at what was written. I then went to my room, locked the door and meticulously copied his signature. I was pleasantly surprised by how successful I was at reproducing his signature. They were indistinguishable. I handed it in the next day knowing she wouldn't be able to tell that I had signed it, feeling like a boss. I was just hoping that she wouldn't follow up with my parents. I knew that if she ever found out what I did I would get in much more trouble than I would have for my original mistake. Even though this was technically forgery, at the time it was the only way I could see of getting out of this mess.

Looking back at this whole situation I realise that to fix the mistake of writing something I shouldn't have on a piece of paper, I copied something else on a piece of paper that I shouldn't have. To fix my initial small mistake, I forged my father's signature and lied to my teacher which is a much worse offense. As an 8 year old I thought I had succeeded, that I had done the right thing because I didn't get caught. The only thing I cared about was whether I would face consequences for my actions not the morality of these actions. I was willing to do pretty much anything to escape punishment even if it meant possibly receiving even more retribution. Now as a 17 year old getting ready to live on my own where there are no parents to show me right from wrong, I would like to think that I have figured out what is morally right to do. When I was a child the way I would differentiate right from wrong was based on punishment not on principles, but because of the consequences I would face as a child I can now differentiate right from wrong.