In year 8 me and a few friends got away with destroying classroom lighting. We were in english and our teacher was feeling generous so he let us work outside. This was at a time in our schooling where everyone had recently discovered the fun that could be had by throwing objects at the moving cooling fans mounted in the classrooms. So naturally being under limited supervision we all climbed through the window in the classroom next door and started fucking around with the fans.

Everything was going well, throwing bits of paper and pencils at the fan, until one of my friends came up with the bright idea to hurl my 350 page text book at it. The results were as expected: Textbook 1, Fan 0. The classroom was fitted with these rows of lights that hung from the ceiling on two thin wires per light. The fan swung crazily clipping one of the wires and tearing it out of the roof showering plaster and dust all over us. The light itself, being partially dislodged from the roof, swung down into a table making a massive bang. In the period of about two seconds our little minds set a plan into action. The others started tearing the second wire from the roof and moved the light into the corner of the classroom, kicking the bits of plaster into the carpet. I instantly ran outside, with bits of plaster in my hair, to distract the teacher. That was the closest I've ever gotten to shitting my pants. The others stealthy emerged with varying amounts of white powder clinging to their uniforms. The teacher was oblivious to the whole incident and we vowed to never speak of it again. I'm almost certain that light is still missing today.