In 8th grade there was a presentation at school for something called the “Men of Integrity”, which was optional to attend but doing so meant that we could get out of class for one period. Naturally, my friend Matt Ray and I decided that sitting through some lame presentation was better than being in regular class, so we eagerly signed up to attend. Assembling in the cafetorium we all sat around the stage as a teacher, Sugar Ray Grier, gave the pitch for Men of Integrity.

Essentially the idea boiled down to trying to give young men a positive influence in their lives, and it focused on ways to improve themselves first. The suggestion was that us young men should strive to give ourselves the best appearance possible, to foster positive impressions. This meant we needed to keep clean haircuts and wear sharp clothes. Short hair was expected, button up shirts, dress shoes and even ties were encouraged. Matt and I looked at each other in disbelief – this definitely wasn’t something we wanted to sign up for. We were skate rat grunge kids.

About 15 minutes into the pitch, Mr Sugar Ray declared: “now if this isn’t the thing for you, if you don’t think you’re up to the task… if you can’t handle being a Man of Integrity, then there’s the door. You can leave right now”. It was all rhetorical of course, but Matt and I knew exactly what to do.

Simultaneously, we both rose from our seats and walked a long, slow walk past rows and rows of our classmates sitting at their tables, straight to the door, without saying a word. Every eye was on us and we exited the cafeteria in silence before bursting out in laughter when the doors slammed shut behind us. “That… was… awesome!”