There were a couple of kids on the bus doing homework and I felt a tinge of envy, not because they were doing homework which I’m glad I don’t hae to do, but because they get to ride the city bus. They must go to the school for the gifted which is downtown so if they ever want to cut class they have access to all the cool stuff in that area. And I kind of envy them being able to do their homework on the bus. I had to ride one of those dumb yellow buses where everybody was too busy throwing books to open one and besides the ride was never more than fifteen or twenty minutes, not enough time to finish any homework, although there was one time I tried. It wasn’t academic homework exactly. I’d gotten in trouble for something and had to do what we called write-offs even though they meant writing on and on and I got an extra hundred when I asked if I could deduct them from my taxes. You know the opening of every Simpsons episode where Bart has to write some phrase over and over on the chalkboard? I had to do those too, but not on the blackboard–I had to do it on sheets of notebook paper and it had to be done after, or before, school. What I had to write five hundred times on this particular occasion was I will never… or maybe it was I will always… which just shows how effective a learning tool forced repetition is, but that’s another story. And since I got them on Friday, which in retrospect seems like entrapment because I was excited about the weekend, I had two whole days to do them. So of course I waited until late Sunday night. I wasn’t too worried since I’d learned a trick from one of the Danny Dunn books: I wrote “I” all the way down the page then “will” all the way down the page and I quickly learned that Danny Dunn had led me astray and writing the same word over and over didn’t make write-offs go any faster. It didn’t matter how fast I worked, though–by bedtime I was short by about four-hundred and fifty lines. So on the bus the next morning I worked as hard and fast as I could and kept going while we were waiting for school to start, although the last three-hundred or so I filled in with ditto marks. I was nervous when I handed them in but my teacher just took them, looked at the number of sheets I’d given her, and threw them away. And that’s when I learned the most valuable lesson of all: not even teachers like having to deal with homework.