I was a truly crap student from 7th through 10th grade.  Bored out of my mind, probably with low-level, undiagnosed ADD, I was a clown, procrastinator and chronic masturbator (though not in class, thank goodness).  I cut 2 or 3 straight weeks of school during 7th grade and still managed to pass, but the crowning glory, my lowest of the low, came during my 8th grade social science class.

My final report was called "Life of the Apache", and it was the worst piece of teenage-produced academic trash I've ever seen (with the possible exception of the Koala Report -- the Sister can post a link).  We were required to include various key pieces of information about our chosen Native American tribe, such as Weapons, Food, Homes, etc.  Although the overall report is impressive for 15 pages thrown together the day before it was due, the Religion and Conclusion sections are really where I proved just how much of a wienie asshat I was.  I have left the spelling and grammar exactly as they were, but added italics for emphasis of true brilliance:

"There is no real name for the religion of the Apaches and, through research, I have come to the conclusion that it is to complex to include in my report. Though I will tell you that some Apaches took christianity as their religion."

When I read that passage out loud to the Wife tonight after having found the report in my garage scrapbox, she looked at me incredulously.  Here's the part that made her tell me she wanted to hit me:

"I think I have learned a lot about the Apaches but I am disappointed at myself. If I had started my research sooner, I could have done a much better report. But as it is, this is my report, and it's not the best. If you, the reader, ever has to read one of my reports again, I will try to make it better."

I should have been a fucking journalist, man.  That certainly could have passed muster at any of our local community weeklies.  Or USA Today.