Parenting Plan in Washington State 2014-2025 Form

I was actually roommates with someone in College whose parents decided to have him “off-grid”. Let me just say this: Stop even entertaining the idea of having a baby off-grid. It really makes your child’s life unnecessarily hard and your kid will forever resent you for putting that pain on them.I’ll get into the details in a moment, but first let me address the question proposed above. Yes, technically speaking it is not a crime to have your baby off-the-grid in the U.S.A. However, a lot of details surrounding the event would be illegal. First of all, any licensed midwife or doctor is required by law to file a birth certificate or they actually risk losing their license and getting a misdemeanor. If you forced them or threatened them to not file the birth certificate that would make you a likely accomplice and would not go over well with the authorities.But let’s ignore that for a moment and just assume you know how to birth a child on your own and can do it in your basement without any professional medical physician there to oversee you (which would be the only way you could pull this off). In this case you wouldn’t get thrown in jail for failing to get a birth certificate and no crime would have been committed. However you just set up a very difficult life for your child.These are some of the things I was told from by my roommate who didn’t have a social security number until he was 20 years old.No, he could not get a (legal) jobQuite literally he didn’t qualify to get even a job at McDonalds. If you remember the last job you got no matter how prestigious or demeaning it was, you had to fill out a bunch of paperwork. Most of these forms require you to have a SSN (social security number) to properly fill them out. However the important one is the form labeled I-9. This form is required to be submitted by every employer after hiring a new employee. This form serves only one purpose, to determine that you are eligible to work in the United States. Your child (and my roommate) would not be able to complete this form which every employer must get filled out before starting employment with a new employee. Your child will not be able to get a job because of this.Yes, he can evade paying taxes.Okay, so this sounds like a perk I guess. But my roommate did not have to pay taxes. The government basically didn’t know he existed, so they never knew he was not paying. But then again he didn’t have a job. So would you rather have a job and pay some taxes or not ever be able to work except under the table for below minimum wage? Given that choice, taxes sound pretty awesome! Keep in mind that this also means your child is not eligible for any tax benefits or credits such as those that students get while going to college.No, You as the parent can not claim him as a dependent on your taxesYou’re already dealing with a child, wouldn’t it be great to get that child tax credit? Every year you'll basically be paying out of pocket for deciding not to get them a SSN.Yes, he can attend public school through 12th gradeHe would be able to attend school through high school without a social security number.No, he can not attend collegeWhile high school and lower education is okay, your child will never be able to attend collegeYes, he can go to the doctorThe doctor will still see your child and provide him his shots. However…No, he will not be covered under your family insurance (or qualify for Medicare/Medicaid)So you’ll need to plan on paying for all doctor appointments out of pocket.No, he can not travel abroad (even to Canada)You’d best hope none of your child’s friends decide to go to Cancun for spring break. Your child will not be eligible to leave the country or return to the US if he manages to leave (unless he plans to climb Trump’s wall)No, he will not be able to drive a carOkay, well nothing is stopping him from physically driving a car, but he would not be able to get a driver’s license and thus, can not LEGALLY drive. Hope he doesn’t get pulled over.No, he will not be able to voteOnce old enough he will not be able to register to vote.Yes, he can avoid the draftWell the good news is that like taxes, he can skirt the requirement to join the draft when he turns 18.No, he can’t get a loanThis means no credit cards, no car loan, no home, nothing. I’m sure plenty of people will claim these are all evil anyway, but these have powerful impacts on someone’s life. There might be times he needs it. (and when used properly none of these are bad things).No, he will not have a credit scoreThis goes with the above one, but he will not be able to work on this which affects your entire life/future. This also will disqualify him from renting most homes or apartments he is looking at.Basically your child will be treated as an illegal immigrant. Why put them through this when they are entitled to the benefits that the United States provides its citizens? There are people in other countries dying to get what your child is entitled to and you are (considering) denying your child those abilities? It just doesn’t make sense.Get them a SSN and if your child decides at 20 that he wants to live off-the-grid than he can burn his Social Security Card and go in the woods and hide from the government. But don’t be selfish enough to make that decision for them.My roommate resents his parents for not giving him a SSN. While all his friends in high school were driving, he couldn’t. While his friends go to Cancun for spring break, he had golden handcuffs in the U.S. and can’t leave. And worst of all he said was that while all his friends were earning money from jobs in high school, he couldn’t get a job.The job part was the hardest for him. He couldn’t leave the house or move out when he turned 18. He was stuck at home.Him working on getting a social security number was difficult and took him two years. He started when he turned 18 to get one once he realized he couldn’t go to college, he couldn’t get a job, he couldn’t rent an apartment, and thus will never really be able to be independent from his parents. It took two years and then at 20 he was able to get one and start working and going to school.He forever resented his parents. Don’t be those parents…

I came across a loophole in the library where I studied by pure accident. I used to go there to study and to also print out the lecture notes which were on average 40 pages long and the print was .10$ for each page. So basically i paid 4$ for each lecture i printed. This was a costly exercise for me and i spent on average 30$ each week for printing.The way it worked was, I had a library card and I recharged it as needed using the recharge machine. The recharge machine was about 5 feet tall and 2 feet wide. You had to insert the card, it would read it and then prompt you to insert the cash you wanted to recharge. Once that was done, you went to the print station, swiped your card on the card reader and then selected your file to print. Pretty basic stuff.One day I gave a few print jobs to the printer and went to the print station and swiped my card. I had to print 2 files of around 30 pages each. I had a credit of 3.70$ on my card. So I decided to print one file and then proceeded to the signNowarge machine to recharge the card while my file was printing. Keep in mind that the recharge machine and the print station were next to each other. Since my file was printing, I inserted my card into the recharge machine, it read my card and gave an error saying that the card is locked. I realized immediately that my card is currently being used by the printer and thus I am unable to use the card at 2 places at once. So I waited for the print to complete and then recharged my card to a value of 5$. So keep in mind I had 3.70$ initially, I printed 30 Pages, My credit should have dropped to .70$ and then recharged 5$ bringing the total to 5.70$. I did all the maths myself before proceeding to the print station and swiping my card. As I swiped my card, it showed me the current balance as 8.70$ instead of 5.70$ meaning I was not charged for the 30 pages i just printed. I quickly noticed and realized the error i got on the recharge machine while printing. I had another job to print, I gave the command to print and again inserted my card into the recharge machine and got the same error as card is currently blocked. I checked and was not charged again. And thats how I have been printing for a while now and my current balance is still 8.70$.I will notify the library eventually of the error and donate a certain amount. But for now, I am a student and its hard to make ends meet.

My ex husband and I married for over 10 years.When I first met him, he was too good to be true. Loving understanding, generous, kind and promised the world to me. His well respected cops admire by everyone at his town and colleagues. He was a hero to other. He was the first guy I’ve ever been with. I fully trusted him just like my parents relationship trusting, respect and always have your back. I always knew I’ll marry a good man, since I am a happy soul.I Left my life back home to start a new fresh life to a new land and new culture with the man I married. I was excited to start a new beginning.Few weeks after moving in to his place as a married couple I saw the very first red flag of the wonderful man I’ve thought, I found a bunch of naked photos he collected from different women, He gave me a beautiful re-assurance as to why he had those photos.. it’s believable he cried.I was young inexperience 19 y/o, living thousand miles across the country away from my family and friends, Naive enough to believe in everything he says, well I supposed to trust my husband he’s a lot older than me so I figured I’m safer, If he wasn’t a cop he would be a great life speaker. He has the skills to convince anyone to believed everything he said.Within the same year I got pregnant with a beautiful girl she’s a blessing to me. His cheating became evident. Calling names became his favorite word. He is a good player and a Dangerous one I felt bad for the women who fell into his lies. He used them to feed his ego.A part of his strategy is to make sure i know nothing about the world I’m living in, staying dumb and clueless is what he likes, he acts like Mr. Google and everyone is below him.He made sure that my name is no longer what my parents gave me, he granted me a new nick name(cunt, whore, dumb,ugly and more) I didn’t like it but he sure gets the joy out of it.From being happy and positive young person I am, I become isolated, sad and Angry. His negative words start to have power over me.He knows how to laugh…laugh at me, he has the needs to remind constantly that I should be well aware of my confidence should be diminish and not meant to flourish. His ego is huge when my confidence is low.Over time I developed anxiety due to his abusive behavior. Regular conversation become frightful. You never know what insult I’m a getting.One sunny day, he took me shopping I got too excited, yes, I have no access to our bank so I have to constantly ask money from him for my personal expense.I picked the cutest outfit, i’d love to think I have a good sense of style, but the excitement replace with embarrassment when he found out my cloths cost him a little over $60, he started belittling me in public, I put the cloths back, too embarrassed to continue shopping, I ran towards the car to hide my self from people staring at us. They felt bad, I felt worst, But those dress though..such a cute outfit that could add a little spice to my confident that’s slowly fading away.I started to make new friends and let me tell you how awesome that felt, I finally found someone to hang out with, well Ofcourse Mr. perfect man cannot handle the positive relationship around me so he has to Interfere, either ruin it or hook up with friends. i lost a lot of friends but few stick up for me and become a family.Years goes by my ex behavior become eradic, abusive, manipulative, he’s extreme pathological liar, and mentally ill. How did I manage to stay positive it was tough but I always knew I am better and stronger that his words.One day he told me to pack our belongings and we’re moving to different states, I don’t want to, I created a family( friends) to where I was and my daughter made a great friendship, but do I have a choice?We moved to another state no friends starting all over again not knowing he planned carefully to divorce me far from my good friends who consoled me. My suffering gives him satisfaction.Slowly regaining independency made him miserable, I fought to go back to school and learned how to drive (thanks to YouTube, no kidding). The more he isolate me the more I tried to become outgoing, I long for connection.It was a bitter sweet mistakes bringing me to the desert I met great new friends, I kept going against his will. I wasn’t scared anymore, I learned to endure his abusive behavior. He was furious to see how quickly I adjusted.He’s on the job to ruin my relationship to any of my friends. He reminds me of an alligator sitting quietly waiting/observing for its prey, All the lies he put out there to destroy my inner peace, this time he will not succeed. I figured out to make sure he know nothing about my new friends.I started working out,it was my to way to de-stress, yoga has been my favorite and outdoor Camping gave me an inner peace, I slowly gained all my confidence back, I spend less of my time or possibly no time at all with him. I made myself busy to help me get rid of the negative thoughts, I don’t want to entertain self pity. I deleted all sorts of social media to avoid comparing my self to other’s happiness and unrealistic lifestyles I couldn’t afford, rather, focus working on my own self progress.One day after I got out of school I went straight to work a gentle man came asking for my name and serve me the divorce paper,I felt a little embarrassed everyone at work knows my business.I had to hire a lawyer when Mr.Respected ex started to create lies and accusations to make sure the judge will favor towards him, his manipulative skills always benefit him, I wish I can speak like him. I don’t see the needs to speak poorly against him infront of the judge, all I wanted is a smooth process stating on the paper I’m no longer connected to him and Grant me my daughter’s custody, but he is born nasty, no compassion. I truly believed he was born heartless.Eventually, he gave up because guess what this little naive girl will never surrender my rights to my beautiful daughter!, even if it means I have to sleep 2 hrs a day to support my expensive lawyer.I work soo hard to make sure my daughter feel safe and do my best to provide all her needs, Its not an easy transition but I kept going, depression has no chance on me. I stayed strong and focus. I cried at times not because I’m depressed but it made me feel better afterwards.Finally, he came into terms, we both signed the divorce paper… I ran downstairs carried the biggest smile on my face and did my happy dance outside the court ( i created my own happy dance) it was the most happiest day of my life. I called my family about the awesome news.I was soo excited, I ran towards the homeless guy sitting on the bench and told him how happy I was, I don’t know him I just needed a friend and he’s kind enough to Listen to my happy ending. It was a beautiful emotional day for me. I used to just wish for this day to come and here I am In front of the court signing my way back to my freedom and peace.Words are powerful, before I left my old town, I told few of my friends marked my word I will be divorce before I turned 30 and if it won’t happen please come find me and slap me in the face, I said jokingly and here I am divorce before 30.I walk away without asking a penny from this man, I could use alimony but I just want peace and my daughter. I let him keep all his money.Hours after signing all the documents he called to say“ I still love you and our family and how sad I am to make a decisions because you have changed. I miss the old you, the way we used to be”.my daughter was sitting next to him so I just had to hold my tongue but I really wanted to tell him to “fuck Off” I wanted to puke with annoyance.I’ve never been soo excited to sign a paper like that in my life.. I could sign that paper all day long, every signatures is a sign of freedom and I made sure to carry extra pen with me Im afraid I will run out of ink.Tears of joy… joy that he will no longer have the power to hurt, belittle and abuse me. The marriage tittle gave him the right to destroy me but it’s over.I will do my best to Live happy and mentally healthy. We are not meant to live sad nor scared everyday, life is not supposed to be that way.Marriage should be a relationship where you feel safe, strong , accepted, and love.I am working progress to be the person I used to be and I wanted to be.I become wise, strong and unapologetic.He brings out the lion out of the cat in me..Life experienced truly mold me of who I am today.Got my own flat at the nicest safe neighborhood. my daughter goes to one of the best school in the states with her good friends, found a great job and happy with my freedom, Still working to finish my degree. Im traveling more often, It is safe to say I am strong attracted women who been through soo much but no one can break me.I never stop reminding my 10 year old daughter one day she’ll step into the real world and I’ll never want her to experience what I went through but a strong lesson to remind her about the values of self love and understanding what healthy relationships looks like.I want her to be happy,confident and strong educated women.Mr nightmare ex is heading to his 4th marriage this year. I wish I could tell him to re-evaluate himself before destroying around another soul. I felt bad for that young women, she doesn’t know what’s coming.

I am one of the “poor”.I wasn’t for most of my life - I worked as a mechanical engineer and, according to the IRS, had paid taxes since I was 15 and a half and a lifetime’s earnings that stretched into millions of dollars of income (again… that’s income over my working life combined)… then I get hit by a truck and can no longer work. Yes, I have money in savings, but my monthly disability check is less than what I earned in three days of my work.During the beginning of me being on disability, I tried to give back to the community in any way I could - to make myself feel that I was not totally worthless.I volunteered at a local church food bank (two hours per month). The policy was one bag of food per month per person in the household. This food was bought by monies raised by donations to the church and donations from local grocery stores (day-old bread and canned food with a little ding or dent, etc). It was all good food, not C-rations from Vietnam.On one day (it happened all the time, just not at this level), a woman comes in with the proper proof of family size… eleven children and her parents… so fourteen bags of food… she came late on the last day of the month (we had four hours twice a month). We had run low on many items we included in the bags of food.The way this operation worked was: people line up and we open at noon. As people stand in line, volunteers hand out “menu” slips to make sure people did not get food they were allergic to or could not eat (for Kosher/Halal reasons or even no hard food for people with no teeth). It was well-planned… but if we were out of items, we were out. It wasn’t like we could call the grocery store and demand them to make an express delivery or anything…Back to this woman… she had her hair with a very nice weave. Long fingernails that had been expertly manicured and was definitely NOT wearing rags… as she received her bags of food (volunteers helped carry them to her fairly new Mercedes SUV), she complained that her kids do not eat green beans! Why green beans? Last month she got green peas that her kids like, but they won’t eat green beans! She demanded we go out to the store and BUY peas right now.BTW, before we could even offer to take the bags to her vehicle (it was our policy to do it anyway), she blurts out that she is disabled and in now way can carry even ONE bag by herself… I had also overheard her boasting to another person in line about how she gets welfare for each of her dependents (11 kids and her two parents)… for those outside the US, that’s about $10,000 per month in “meager government assistance”.… and she wants the FREE food to be swapped out for something else?Another incident happened at the “Social Services” office.I was there to get a form to fill out regarding my disability… a woman behind the counter had brought in THREE trays of cookies for the people in line.This woman was in front of me. She sees the cookies and asks the woman behind the counter if they are free. The woman says “Yes” and then they go about filling out the forms she was there for… as she leaves, she again asks, “These are free?” the clerk nods and says “Yep, I bring in cookies every day for the people in line”. Without hesitation, the woman in front of me picks up all three trays and dumps every cookie into her large purse as she says “My kids will LOVE these treats”… and walks away.Why do people have a low opinion of those in the US who receive “meager” benefits? There are people who use the system to get everything they can and abuse the generosity of taxpaying citizens.I have a couple more similar stories, one even worse than the two above combined, but I cannot type anymore.People see these stories of those who game the system for additional benefits, or outright cheat the system… demanding a food bank provide peas and not green beans when it’s free food… and you drive a MERCEDES?Taxpayers pay into the system that provides these “meager” benefits, and when they see how the people receiving those benefits cheat and scam the system ending up making MORE than the people being taxed to pay for their aid, it garners some resentment… “Why should I work my butt off, lose a third of my income to taxes, and these people who benefit from my work (via taxes) live better than I do? Why should I work at all?”“If they can afford bi-weekly hair weaves, top-end manicures and drive luxury cars, why do they need money from those working hard every day?”Not everyone games the system, but many do and get away with it. When caught, it makes news… therefore, the regular working “Joe or Jane” only sees the people getting benefits who are nothing but cheaters… the news does nt report about the normal welfare recipient or disabled person, they only report the schemers… and that is the only thing regular Americans see, so the resentment is justified in a way.If the regular American saw how MOST benefit recipients lived, they would see it in a completely different light.

There are three different type of German Student Visas:-Language Course Visa:- It is useful for those students who want to learn German language in the Germany.Student Applicant Visa:- Student still finding the right option for course and waiting for the confirmation regarding the admission in the German Universities.Student Visa:- In this particular visa, student has already been invited by the German Universities.It is very easy to fill out the German Student Visa Form, as it includes only the basic information related to the student, Germany and courses.Surname Family NameSurname at BirthDate of BirthPlace of BirthCountry of BirthCurrent NationalitySexMarital statusAddress with parents nationality and nameNational Identity NumberType of Travel DocumentNumber of Travel DocumentsDate of issueExpiry DateIssued byStudents home and email addressTelephone numberResidence in Nationality of another countryCurrent OccupationLast Employers or Last Education detailsMain purpose of the GermanyMember state of the destinationMember state of the entryNumber of entries requestedDuration of planned staySchengen visa issued earlier or notFingerprint used earlier or notEntry permit for final countryIntended date of arrivalIntended date of departure from Schengen countryName of inviting person or hotelTravelling or Living costFamily member address with EU, EEA or CU citizen.Place and DateSignature of the student

One day many years ago, I was walking home from high school, when I saw a frail, elderly woman carrying heavy bags of groceries.She was humpbacked and looked exhausted.I ran to help her, and carried the groceries to her house.As I walked up the steps to the front door, I became aware of the dilapidated condition of the house.The front steps were not safe to walk on!The dear woman invited me inside for tea.The living room was very clean, but the carpet and furniture were old and threadbare.Miss Muriel Carter had been subsisting in this ramshackled place for many years.As I was drinking my tea, she excused herself to “warm up the place”.Donning an apron, Miss Carter opened the door to the basement, and proceeded to make her way down a steep flight of stairs.When I asked if I could help her, she allowed me to follow her.The house was heated with a coal furnace.This required frequent trips downstairs to empty out the ashes and add a fresh supply of coal.My heart was aching for this poor woman as I opened the door to the furnace and scooped out the ashes and soot into a metal bin.After filling a scuttle with coal, I refuelled the furnace and let Miss Carter finish the task.Once we were back in the living room, I discreetly asked the elderly woman about her life.Miss Carter shared her incredible life story.Her parents had been wealthy, and she had a privileged childhood.When Muriel Carter was eighteen, she met the man of her dreams.After a whirlwind courtship, her beau asked her to marry him.This was the happiest time of Miss Carter's life!Then tragedy struck.Muriel Carter's fiancé was killed in an accident.Consumed with grief, she became a recluse at her parents’ house.Soon after, misfortune struck again when her father died.However, the biggest shock was still to come.When Miss Carter and her mother began to plan Mr. Carter's funeral, they made a horrifying discovery.He had gambled away his fortune!They were left owing money.Muriel Carter had to get a job.She mustered her courage and went to work as a sales clerk in a department store.Miss Carter supported her mother for many years.She told me that she actually enjoyed getting out of the apartment and working with people.One day Muriel came home and found her mother lying on the floor.She had been sick and had succumbed to pneumonia.So now Muriel, an only child, was alone.The aging spinster decided to rent a house and take in boarders to make ends meet.We were sitting in the boarding house Muriel had lived in for many years.Some of the boarders had been young women entering the work force for the first time.Most of them treated her well and were good company.Some male boarders had been violent.One had physically attacked her, giving her a black eye and bruising her arms.I couldn't bear to hear any more.I was going to help Miss Carter.As soon as I got home I related everything to my mother and grandmother.The following day, as soon as school was out, I went to City Hall.I was only seventeen years old.I headed for the city's housing department, where I was given a form to fill out.There was a long waiting list for senior's housing.I remembered that one of my uncles knew a city official, so I went to see the commissioner of public works.His receptionist told him that a “school girl” wanted to talk to him.To my utter amazement I found myself sitting across from the commissioner!After mentioning my uncle (whom the commissioner acknowledged), I told him everything, making it very clear that this frail elderly woman was in danger.She could fall down the basement stairs, or her attacker could come back.Apparently I was convincing.The commissioner agreed to meet me outside of Miss Carter's house the following day.As soon as he saw the rickety front stairs he became concerned.The three of us had a cup of tea in the old woman's living room.The commissioner went down to the basement.When he came back into the living room, he told Miss Carter that he couldn't make any promises, but he would see what he could do to get her out of there.He wrote down my phone number and went back to work.The following week when I got home from school, my grandmother told me that the commissioner wanted me to call his office.Muriel had a new place to live!My mother and I packed up her place and my uncles moved her into her freshly painted senior's apartment!My family bought her a TV and new curtains and slipcovers for her furniture.We had a party to celebrate her new home!Muriel settled into her cozy and safe abode.She became a dearly loved member of my family.Miss Muriel Carter never spent another Christmas alone.Rest in peace, beautiful Muriel.

Around 1993 or 1994, I was working at a community clinic, which is basically slave labor for trainees / interns. Little to no pay, but you get supervision and rack up a lot of hours quickly. Mental Health Services were on the 4th floor, and regular health services were on the 3rd floor, and we’d get a fair number of referrals from the health clinic. A lot of drug users and alcoholics, cases of abuse, runaway teenagers, and so forth. If you were one of the on-call trainee / interns, you handled the walk-ins and referrals as they came, so you never really knew who or what was going to walk in that door.I had a walk-in one afternoon, and this guy could have been my youngest brother’s twin. I did a double-take when he came in the door, holding his referral slip from downstairs in his hand. He told me his name, it was the same name as my brother. So that was a little unsettling. He filled out his paperwork slowly, distractedly but only got about halfway through it and then came back to the counter and asked if it was necessary to finish the whole form, or could he do it later, or while we talked? Sure, that was not a problem, so I led him to one of the session rooms. He sat down and handed me his form, half filled out. I looked it over; his handwriting was neat and legible, so apparently not a drug addict or alcoholic. No spelling errors, he had the day and date correct, so no cognitive issues, at least not yet. He was dressed casually but appropriate. Typical 19 or 20 year old kid, damn if he didn’t look just like my little brother. And the same name, too.I was still scanning over his paperwork, and was just about to ask him what brings him here today, and how can we help him, when my eyes hit on the point at which he had stopped filling out the form. He had only just now come from getting the results of his blood test: positive for HIV.I didn’t need to ask what brought him here today.There sat my little brother’s double, across from me, barely 19 or 20 years old, looking me straight in the face, white as a sheet, and incredibly sad and terrified at the same time and begging for someone to do something to make this go away and not be real, to turn the clock back one hour, one week, one month and change everything. What can you possibly say in a moment like this? “How can I help you?” That falls so far short of what is wanted and needed.In all honesty, I can’t remember how the rest of that hour went. I vaguely recall setting up some plans with him to follow up with the health clinic, keep his next appointment, talking about next steps, etc. Filling out the rest of his paperwork with him, and writing some action items down for him. At one point while we were doing this, he looked up at me and in a small voice, barely above a whisper, said, “I don’t want to die.”What do you say? What words can possibly be helpful? Rather lamely, I answered, “I know.” Then the dam burst. This was going to kill his mother. He had been kicked out of his house when his parents discovered he was gay; he had been living on the streets; gay for pay to be able to eat and pay rent; but he had recently found a full-time job, and a decent apartment, and had started to patch things up with his parents (through his sister, with whom he had stayed in touch). It had looked as if a reconciliation might be possible. And now this…What can you say? I don’t remember the rest of the session. What I remember is the look in his eyes when my little brother’s double told me he didn’t want to die. I can still see that and hear him saying it. After that, the rest of it is a blank.That was the hardest hour I had with a client.

Confetti everywhere.I had very certain parenting beliefs and knew exactly what I would do, how I would respond, and how my children would respond.Then they came along.One by one, every belief and theory was shredded mercilessly. You forget to plan on the child being very much its own individual with its own personality and children are not known for following your script.Eventually, you scrap it and go on instinct and what works for that specific child (which will not be what works for its siblings). We forget and tend to discredit instinct with all the how-tos but the how-tos constantly change and often go full circle. Gospel truth > OMG, you're going to kill the child! > gospel truth again.We also forget children aren't programmable robots- you can read to a child 5 times a day following all the advice and still not end up with a kid who likes to read or is at all good at it. Parents with easy kids tend to take credit when in fact they just lucked out. Some of them also tend to judge those parents who got the more complicated or challenging kids.In the end, you teach and guide your kids but they ultimately decide their own course in life.

“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is skipping out of an entire semester of advanced calculus, pulling off a dramatic identity change mid-day during a final exam and escaping expulsion to pull off an A in the class. This message will self destruct in 9 seconds.”I always envision that message when I think about an impossible, elaborate scam my friend attempted in college 20 years ago.My friend is crazy smart. Too smart. He was that guy who spent no time studying in high school, doing his homework in the car on the way to school and still beat you on the tests. He hated the concept of school and would do just about anything to avoid it.During our sophomore year, I visited him at Michigan State University for a football weekend and noticed one of his textbooks was still wrapped in plastic . . . one month into the semester.“Have you been to class yet?”“A couple times.”“Uh, aren’t you paying tuition to be in that class?”“Yeah, but I’ve got a plan.”Turns out that my boy’s roommate took the class the previous year and told him how the final exam played into the grading. Once your final exam grade was final, you could choose to keep that grade for the semester or take the grade you had leading into the final exam. In other words, one test could replace the two midterm exams, homework assignments and quizzes.In addition, the class was large enough where they offered two final exam times. One was in the morning and the other in the afternoon.Conceivably, someone could get their hands on the questions in the morning and come prepared with the answers in the afternoon.This plan was high risk in that the professor made you turn your exam in directly to him and he looked everyone in the face. If you were coming to his lectures all semester long, he would get to know what you look like and would know if you came to take the test twice.Armed with this information, my friend quit going to class.He already had a beard and long hair but quit shaving or grooming from that point on. By the day of the exam, he looked like this and made sure to even dress like a homeless lumberjack.He showed up, copied all of the questions on the exam onto a separate piece of paper, did his best to answer the questions and didn’t put a name on the exam.He turned in the exam, looked his professor in the eye and walked out the door. He sprinted home, handed the exam questions to his roommate who was two semesters ahead on the subject and being paid handsomely for helping him pull of this scheme. He hit the shower, shaved and had another friend give him a haircut.He dressed up like a banker and put on a pair of glasses, then copied down the answers and work it would take to show he knew how to arrive at those answers. He had all of two hours to pull this off and get back to the second final exam time. When he showed up at this second exam, here is how he looked:He got through the test and then came the moment of truth. Hearing him tell the story of walking up to the front of that classroom to look his professor in the eyes for a second time gives me the chills to this day.He smiled, handed him the test and the professor stared at him for what he says felt like 15 minutes but was probably 5 seconds. I can’t imagine how sickening that feeling must have been, knowing expulsion was riding on what the professor said next.The professor said thanks and he walked out.My boy got an A on that exam and the class, even though he was riding an F heading into that exam. There are so many reasons this plan should not have worked.Why didn’t the professor wonder how he had missed a homeless guy being in his class all semester? (can probably be easy to miss some people in a 200 person lecture hall but that is ridiculous)Why didn’t the professor question how someone who had clearly failed two midterms and done no homework pull off such a turnaround?How did the professor account for an exam turned in with no name and terrible answers or that 201 exams were turned in for a class with only 200 people? Could someone else in that class have failed and quit going to class so it actually was 200/200 turned in exams?Why didn’t this suspicion make him bring my friend back in to retake the test in front of him with different questions?Why would someone go through this much stress and hassle when going to class could have been so much easier and less stressful?I have always felt that the professor was definitely suspicious but didn’t want to admit that his process of two exams left a loophole that could be exploited. His ego probably led him to move on, understanding how improbable it would be to orchestrate something like this.Regardless, I consider this mission one of the greatest rages against the machine in modern history. Given what was at stake and the level of complexity to pull it off, my boy earned that A with flying colors.

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