The Benefits of Misbehaving

An hour after the lunch bell had sounded, greasy Friday lunch churning in our stomachs, my fellow criminals and I waited outside the Head of Year’s office as instructed. The rest of our class waved us goodbye, their faces a mixture of pity and smug amusement. I wasn’t sure which was worse. We were going to be suspended, I was sure of it. My parents, it seemed, were sure of it, too. They had taken the rest of the week off in preparation for my being sent home in shame. 

Likely, they were wondering, “Where did we go wrong?” As a child, I had always very much toed the line, too afraid of a telling-off to stray into the realm of real mischief. So what changed? In truth, it was my friends who really pushed me out of my comfort zone, encouraging me to see the importance of silliness in the pursuit of a full life. Attending a pushy school and saddled with ambitious parents, I had always strived for top grades, often at the expense of my own mental well-being. But the corruptive influence of my companions did wonders for the try-hard in me, and slowly I began to see that grades weren’t everything.

We started to play pranks on our teachers, hiding phones in cupboards with alarms set so no one could get any work done, racing each other under tables when their backs were turned, or writing rude things on the board and seeing how long it would take an adult to notice. All of it innocent stuff, but there was no thrill quite like making your class giggle by asking the silliest question or winning a game of dares in a feat of adrenaline-fuelled teenage stupidity.

Unsurprisingly, my grades plummeted. I went from being an A* student to bringing home a page full of Cs and Ds, with teachers writing that I was disobedient and downright disruptive. At thirteen, things got so bad that I even had to change my grade sheet, Tipp-Exing out the worst ones and praying my parents didn’t notice the additions made in pen. It all reached a head that lunchtime, as we stood outside the office door and awaited our imminent suspension. Our crime? As a joke in history class, we had written a pretty offensive letter accusing our teacher, a naïve twenty-something-year-old barely out of university, of some pretty offensive things. I won’t go into details, but I’ll never forget his face as he snatched the paper out of my hands. A year later, he gave up teaching altogether and retrained as a lawyer. 

Miraculously, sensing the whole thing was a joke and we were well and truly sorry, we were let off with only a detention, on the condition we would make the effort to change our ways. We did, and by the following year had achieved a Lazarus-like recovery. In truth, it needed to be done. I have no regrets about getting back on track — I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t. But neither do I have any regrets about those wasted years. Misbehaving served as some of the best education I ever had. I learnt what was important and what wasn’t, how to prioritise, how to laugh at myself, how to worm my way out of a sticky situation, and most importantly, how to have fun.

This sense of perspective held me in good stead as I transitioned into university. Of course, I could never justify a complete relapse into old habits; university education is a privilege and should be treated like one. Yet I’m also certain that a balance between the serious and the silly is key to surviving your time here. My advice to freshers would be, of course, to read your set work, engage in class discussions, and pester your professors during office hours, but never fail to take the occasional step back. Top grades, though undoubtedly precious, cannot provide fulfilment unless pursued alongside an embracing of the chaotic, at times ridiculous aspects of the student experience. Engage in this chaos whenever possible — its miseducation might just be the making of you.

Illustration by Holly Ward