Receiving the “most school spirited” award from my graduating high school class seemed like a meaningless superlative until it became Exhibit A in defending why I should be allowed to graduate.

The issue was called into question because I missed too many days of school.

I wasn’t traumatized or sick. I stupidly considered myself clever and used my status as an adult to regularly sign myself out of school after I turned eighteen.

But it turned out that only the first twenty “excused” absences were actually excused and I had blown far past the limit.

My only chance of graduating was to convince an Attendance Review Committee to make an exception in my favor.

I threw everything at them including timesheets proving I used some of my absences to pick up extra hours at work, a doctor’s diagnosis of insomnia giving justification for late arrivals, and proof of involvement in multiple extracurricular activities showing my contributions to school culture.

I thought the board would be most persuaded by a letter from my teachers showing that I had A’s in every class and had completed all assignments. My absences were strategically planned to never miss a test.

But the board was most moved by my being voted Most School Spirited. “How could that be possible,” they asked, “if you were never here?”

“You can never trust the paperwork,” I shrugged, “I’m basically here all the time.”

Amazingly, they agreed and I was allowed to graduate high school. (This also foreshadowed my law school graduation ten years later.)

When I asked classmates why they voted me as most school spirited when I rarely showed up they answered that “I seemed happy to be there” and “was nice to everyone.”

Sometimes that’s all it takes.

All of that happened twenty years ago last week.

This past week, I attended the National Society of Newspaper Columnists’ annual conference where I had the honor of being one of four finalists for an award honoring the best humor columnists at a website receiving under 100,000 average monthly views.

It was hard to imagine being honored by leaders of a profession I don’t work in at a conference full of people I’d never met. As I learned the magnitude and breadth of some other attendee’s experience, I grew sheepish.

Mentioning, let alone praising, jokes about my feelings in a room with multiple Pulitzer Prize winners and journalists with decades of newsroom experience seemed absurd.

Nevertheless, I attended the conference to learn techniques and strategies to improve my writing. As with high school, I dipped in and out as I pleased: three nights of professional networking is a lot for someone who’s normal idea of networking is introducing his daughter to a new stuffed animal.

Also as in high school, I stayed up too late at night and slept in too long in the morning. I was happy to be there and treated everyone the same.

On the final night of the conference, I was astonished to win first place in my online humor columnist category.

As well-wishers came up afterward, I shrugged still holding the certificate and said, “I’m shocked, but you really can’t argue with the paperwork. That’s why they wrote it down.”

We’re always seeking validation. Whether it recognizes the sort of person who we are or the quality of the work we produce it is similarly moving and provides fuel to keep us moving on the incredible journey of life.

I’m told it is a long road but twenty years sure goes by fast.

Thank you to the National Society of Newspaper Columnists for welcoming me into your ranks and providing some validation and support to the silly things I write.

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