I went to a psychology class taught by Mr. Gee (a karate teacher from Athens, Ohio). The tables in the room were long, cafeteria tables and several students were seated at each table. I sat down.

Tests which consisted of three sheets of paper with drawings on them were immediately passed out. The students had to copy the drawings, which were mostly of interwoven lines. One drawing was of a group of students clustered together.

I began working furiously trying to copy all the drawings. Rick Dupuy (whom I first met in 1975 when we were in the 10th grade together) sat in front of me. Soon people began handing in their papers, but I wasn't even half-finished.

The class was 2 hours long and ended at 6 minutes after 3 o'clock. At that time I still wasn't finished. I took up my paper anyway, and then discovered we hadn't been supposed to copy all, but only seven, of the drawings.

The class was actually two rooms and I had been sitting in the second (farther removed from the professor) and so I had failed to hear his instructions. I wanted to explain to him what I had done.

As I walked over toward his desk, I stuck my test papers into an old black and white psychology book which I was carrying. When I reached his desk, I began trying to explain to him what I had done. He gruffly demanded the papers. When he saw the papers in my text book, he seized them and crumpled them up. He screamed that I shouldn't have put my papers in the book and he tossed my precious 2 hours work in the trash. I began imploring, but he was intractable.

A young lady assistant dressed in white sat behind the desk. I begged her to intercede for me, but she dared not. She said mockingly to Mr. Gee, "He had his papers in a psychology book. You'd better not take them."

A crowd of students gathered to talk with Gee. I retrieved my crumpled papers from the waste basket. As I held them in my hand I began reflecting on the possibility of transferring to another class.

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