Being late is simple. Being late with style? That’s a challenge. 

Dean of the High School for Math, Science, and Engineering, Mr. Benjamin Zara, is surrounded by practitioners of the art. With 21 years of teaching under his belt, Zara recalls this doozy: “I would’ve been on time, but as we were about to leave, my dad decided to take a crap for thirty minutes.” The best excuses create such awkwardness that neither party wishes to continue the conversation. Ideally, yours will involve your parent or guardian committing the deed that triggers your tardiness; no teacher wants to make an inquiry about “bathroom troubles.” 

What matters most is delivery. Your excuse needs to be creative, but if you can’t sell it, you’re sunk. Zara says that performance seals the deal. He once had a student who “showed up to class thirty minutes late in a t-shirt and shorts in the dead of winter, claiming to have had his coat and backpack stolen.” What won Zara over was the student’s Oscar-worthy state of pure panic. 

But Lateness is a learned skill.

It’s 8:37. The bell rang seven minutes ago. Sofia strolls in with her caramel latte. She sits at her desk, not making eye contact.

“Sofia, so nice of you to join us.” Ms. Smith rolls her eyes.

“Sorry, the train was late.”

 Sofia is a Type-One Basic Later. She lacks every quality that a master, like future you, must have.

The steps go as follows:

1:  Look haggard, distressed, and out of breath.

2:  Make your excuse concise, irrefutable, and really freaking awkward.

3: Never use the same excuse twice. Zara had a student say, “Sorry, Grandma had an early morning funeral.” Fantastic. Creative. Bad because he said it five times over the year.

Enter Master Later. 

Ebenezer throws open the door, and the class turns their heads to see a lanky child, dressed head-to-toe in Hanukkah-themed pajamas. One pant leg hiked up to his knee, his hair standing at attention, his bag unzipped and vomiting objects.

“My deepest apologies, Teach. Mom just told me I was adopted,” Ebenezer says, his face still ridden with shock.

Ebenezer is officially The Lord of Lateness. He will undoubtedly sail through high school with a perfect attendance record, a master of a skill with a lifelong payoff. With a bit of practice and some creativity, you too could be just like Ebenezer.