He’s Been Caught Left-Handed

I played hockey from the time I was able to stand until a horrific injury at age thirteen caused a stop to my promising hockey career. I was wheelchair-bound for months with an injured leg and had intense physiotherapy until I was twenty. I was able to regain the ability to place weight on my leg, but I now have a limp if I walk for long distances and am considered disabled because of this. Because of this disability, I am exempt from physical education in school. 

When I am fourteen, I am back to walking semi-normally, though I am still attending physiotherapy twice a week after school. I am walking through the hallway one day on my way to lunch when I am stopped by one of the club teachers. She holds out a form to me, which happens to be the hockey team sign-up form. At the very top of the sign-up sheet is my name, crudely written as if a toddler had written it.

Teacher: “Are you well enough to play hockey?”

Me: “I’m not, and I never signed up.”

Due to several incidents in the past where students signed up for teams and activities and didn’t follow through with fees for equipment and uniforms, our school has a strict policy that if these fees are not paid, you will be given detention until you pay the school back.

Teacher: “Okay, I’ll omit you from the form.”

Thinking my friends have pulled a prank on me, I ask them if they signed me up. All of them say no, but a week later, my name is on the sign-up sheet for the ski club in the same crude writing. I am getting suspicious, and I ask my friends again, but all of them repeat that they aren’t responsible for my name being on the sign-up sheet.

I have just gotten back into snowboarding at this point, but I am nowhere near ready to return to doing it on a club level. I go to [Teacher].

Me: “Someone put my name on the ski club sign-up sheet, but I’m not interested. Someone must be signing me up for things without my permission.”

Teacher: “I’ll look into it, and I’ll tell the rest of the athletic faculty that if they see your name, they should ignore it.”

Things seem to be back to normal, but after a few months, I am called to the principal’s office. Sitting there is the head teacher of the athletic faculty, my dad, and the principal. I am told to sit down, and the principal produces a startling amount of forms — each one of them an athletic sign-up sheet with my name on it.

Principal: “Why are you signing up for so many clubs and teams but not following through on them?”

I tell them my side of the story, complete with how I spoke with another teacher about it.

Head Teacher: “You’re wasting people’s time and money. I’ve already ordered three uniforms for you, and you’ve never shown up for practice!”

The principal agrees, but my dad, who has been looking over all the sign-up sheets, speaks up.

Dad: “I can tell [My Name] didn’t sign these. I know their handwriting. If we can prove their innocence here, we shouldn’t be on the hook for the fees.”

The principal believes this is a good idea, but the teacher is stewing in anger. The principal hands me a sheet of paper and a pen.

Principal: “Write your name, please.”

I do so and show him.

Head Teacher: “You must have written your name on those sign-up sheets with your other hand to get out of paying! This must be some prank you’re pulling!”

I shrugged and switched hands, writing my name with my other hand. I turned the paper and showed the principal, my father, and [Head Teacher] my writing. This satisfied the principal, and my father was just sitting with a big grin on his face. 

On the paper were two nearly-identical signatures: one with my left and one with my right. Being ambidextrous, I learned how to write with both hands very early on.

The principal dismissed my dad and me, but my father hung back to speak with the principal and [Head Teacher] before we left. I didn’t know what happened until we got home later that night.

My dad had recognized [Head Teacher] as someone he had gone to high school with, who had bullied him relentlessly. Once I had left the room, my father asked if maybe he could test a theory he had. He placed a paper before [Head Teacher] and asked him to write my name. Humoring my dad, [Head Teacher] did so using his left hand. My father told him to use his right hand instead, knowing that [Head Teacher] was left-handed. 

The handwriting matched.

[Head Teacher] was placed on administrative leave, and an investigation ensued. [Head Teacher] had seen my last name and knew I was my dad’s son because I was born while my parents were still in high school. He hadn’t intended for me to find out about the forms, but when [Teacher] told him that she had spoken to me about it, he doubled down and began signing me up for all athletic clubs, hoping that I wouldn’t find out and would have to pay the fees.

[Head Teacher] was still on leave by the end of the school year, and by the beginning of the next, he had been transferred to a school at least two hours away.