I experienced my first trip to the principal’s office in the fall of my kindergarten year. The trip was a result of a dispute between me, my arch-nemesis Forrest, and my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Snowden. Surrounded by a gaggle of five-year-olds, I was proud to announce the news that Mrs. Snowden had shared with me earlier that day: I was the best reader in the kindergarten class. “No,” Forrest interjected, “She told me that I was the best reader.” I was appalled and disgusted at this discrepancy. Someone was lying. I was certain that the angelic Mrs. Snowden could not be at fault, and I knew that I wasn’t lying, so the incontestable truth was that Forrest was usurping my position and undermining my crowning and well-deserved accolade. My path forward was clear: gather support, publicly shame Forrest, and throw a calculator at his face. What I had envisioned as a proud and glorious defeat of evil by good and falsehood by truth turned out to be the first black mark on my record.