In grade 3–that was 1977–I noticed a strip of seemingly random characters at the bottom of the test, small and already bleeding in that bluish ditto ink. I found these glyphs far more interesting than the test itself, and after staring at them for a bit I realized that there was in fact some correlation between them and the few answers I’d managed to figure out. It was like “A Beautiful Mind” where I suddenly understood the interconnectedness of all things, and I may even have heard a chorus of angels as I proceeded to decode the entire test.

Unfortunately, my enlightenment was soon doused by the girl next to me, who ratted me out to the teacher when she saw what I had been doing. I was horrified, but the disapproving look on the teacher’s face soon softened. “You shouldn’t have cheated,” she said, “but I’m impressed that you figured out how to do it.” And I was let off with a mere warning.

So my time as an unfettered genius was short, but I learned an important lesson that day. And I’ve been cheating ever since.

[Music swells.]

End Credits.