That’s right. I duplicated, Bitch.

Friday, 4:00 p.m.  The school building was silent, the ghosts of children’s jubilant voices echoing down the empty corridors. I watched the last teacher exit her classroom, keys jangling, heels clicking out the door.  Glancing over my shoulder, I stole off to the dark and empty copy room, where the hibernating machines quietly hummed.  Ever so carefully, I pulled the secret document from under my arm, placed it facedown on the scanner, took a breath, and hit start.

As I write this, stacked before me is a pile of Connecticut Mastery Test practice worksheets.  On the bottom of each copy, it clearly states: “Duplication of these materials is strictly prohibited under penalty of law.”

And you people say I don’t know how to party.