We were horrible students in junior high. We once convinced the teacher to let us outside during class and we sat in a line braiding each other's hair. The girls did, that is. I don't know what the boys did, I didn't pay attention to them back then.
I went with my friend to her martial arts class once. I realized it's a good thing she was on my side because I'd she wasn't, shed take me out in two seconds flat.
Once my brother and I played the Sound of Music soundtrack to fall asleep. We kept getting up to repeat the CD all night. That was an off-night, because usually I fell asleep listening to CDs intended to help me learn Latin and Spanish.
In fifth grade I only had one friend, so I based my self-worth off what I could do better than others. Once I beat Jesse Holmes in the pacer. Didn't make me any more friends. The next year I won an award for poetry recitation, and another running race. Still didn't help.
An old couple around the corner used to always make homemade ice cream for the kids who came around. Usually we took a shortcut through the neighbor's backyard, but once I rode my scooter there, crashed into the curb, and went flying. I didn't get ice cream that day, but my chin was purple and bruised for a month.
But the point isn't that all these things only happened once, although that is the case. The point is that they happened. At least I learned something from all those wasted years. Even if it wasn't much.