As a child, I was an “independent.” Trouble, some said.

Today’s story is from Casey Hague.

Kindergarten, first grade, second grade — my tidbits of terror were becoming well known until… the apology letter.

Casey Hague — Trouble?

Second grade. Mrs. Robinson’s class. Report card day. I was eight. Report cards at this level were not typical grades, but O (outstanding), S (satisfactory), or N (not good) — indicators to parents of what was to come. I thought nothing of it. Didn’t even look.

I walked into the house and tossed the card on the table. Time for some skateboard action outside. “Casey, come in,” I heard Dad yell. His voice sounded an unhappy tone.

I sauntered back into the house. Dad looked upset. “Sit down,” he said, pointing to a kitchen chair. “Did you see this report card?” The tone. The look. I’d seen it before. Dad was mad.   

“Uh, no Dad, I thought it was for parents.” I said with a feigned, innocent look.

Dad started with an authoritative tone, “You need to know about grades in this family. O’s are expected, S’s unacceptable, and N’s are punishable. Your grades are all S’s and N’s. That will never happen again. You are grounded for two weeks.

Now, go upstairs and write an apology letter to Mrs. Robinson
for your bad work.”

“But Dad…”

He cut me off, “And Casey, if you ever get an S or an N again, you will be grounded until the next report card. You won’t leave this house. I want all O’s.” I burst into tears, ran upstairs, slammed my door. Later that night, Dad asked me to stay at the dinner table.

“Casey, you are the smartest kid in your class; you know it and so do I. Right?”

I nodded. I didn’t “know” this, but it sounded great!

“Casey,” said Dad, “I love that you want to stand out. But there’s doing it wrong and doing it right. Starting tonight, you’ll understand right.

From now on, when you’re bad, I’m not going to yell, I won’t even be mad. You will simply write an apology letter to any adult who sees what you did.

And I’m going to ask them all; your mom, your teacher, my friends, to let me know.”

I complained. I said no. But I knew Dad. He made things like this a big deal. He’d be watching me, looking for chances to make me write.

Dad helped me write the apology letter sitting at the table that night. There were more to come.

What happened? People started to write back!

They said nice things. My reputation started to change. So did I.

I began to believe Dad may have been right — I was a smart kid.

It was a bumpy road, but when I finally took hold Dad said, and I will never forget, “Casey, I knew you would be either be the world’s most infamous criminal, or one of its greatest successes. I was right!”

Where am I now? This weekend, Dad flew in to be at my side.

This was a huge moment in my life. Last night, the results were posted. Together we logged into the California Bar Exam website. Tears flooded my eyes. Dad cried, too. We hugged. Great night.

Now I’ll be putting those letter-writing skills to good use… for my clients.

Proud father and the letter writing specialist — Greg and Casey Hague