You played hooky from school so you could hide under your favorite spruce tree and read books under the branches.
Despite all the chastisement, yelling, threats, and punishments, you refused to ever reveal your secret hiding tree. You would not ever let anyone take that refuge from you. They had their libraries. You had your hidey-hole.
When the principal gave you detention you played hooky from detention to read another book under the tree. You got extra weekends of detention for that and for refusing to tell the adults where you were at.
No reading was allowed during detention. You knew that was evil horse pucky!
I was homeschooled for most of my pre-high-school years, but other than that this captures so much of young me. I'd bring home a stack of books two feet tall from the library every other week, and not infrequently would read them up in the branches of one of our trees. Math workbooks always got finished early because I liked math (still do), but I have a sneaking suspicion that some of the old novels my mother would suggest were to bolster my otherwise... minimal approach to history.
Meanwhile I developed absolutely no fear of correcting people twice my height and nearly three times my age because I knew our farm and how to care for the animals, and why wouldn't they love them just as much if only they learned how to work with the goat, say, rather than fighting to get it to obey.
@mypeople@infostorm@octade@weirdfolks@bookstodon no spruce tree for me, but cutting class to hide in the rafters of the concert hall where the stage lights were set in order to read George Eliot and George Sand: high school had its good moments!