WARNING: Content may not be suitable for adults

People often joke that my core audience is a bunch of 10-year-olds. I think they say this for two reasons:

1. They're just jealous because I only have one duty in my job as a respected journalist, and that's to participate in and write about once-in-a-lifetime experiences.

2. HA! Duty.

OK, so they might be on to something here. But if that's the case, apparently I could use a little adult supervision when it comes to what I put in the newspaper. At least according to fifth-grade teacher Jenna Brinson. Two weeks ago, Brinson, who teaches gifted and talented students at Oakbrook Elementary School, wrote me the following e-mail that I now will print word for word in order to take up more space so that I don't have to write as much:

Dear Bryce,

My students and I are tired of the traditional ways of preparing for standardized testing, but we know we must prepare. Therefore, my students and I are having a little fun with The Post and Courier columnists. We are having a contest of sorts to get the students familiar with how their writing will be scored (on this week's PASS test). We've decided to see if all of you would meet the standards set forth on the writing portion of the test. I have pulled articles from all columnists with the use of my e-edition (only $9.95 a month, what a deal!) (OK, so I actually wrote that last thing.) with the exception of one: YOU! After searching the archives for hours, I have yet to find one recent article of yours that is clean enough to use with my students. (Not a single one without a mention of beer or something else inappropriate for 10-year-old eyes.) We really would like for you to take part of this "competition." We are certain you would like to know if your writing meets the standards set forth for fifth-graders since you have so much in common with them. Could you please deliver us one clean column to use?

Sincerely,

Jenna Brinson

OK, first of all, Ms. Brinson, I hardly ever talk about beer. I've always been a crack guy. And second, I accept your challenge. In fact, I think it will be fun. Scratch that. It's going to kick, er, possibly be harder than I thought. So. Where to begin? Let's see. Why don't we start by checking the Web site for the PASS test so that I know what constitutes "good writing."

All right, according to the folks with the S.C. Department of Education, one should:

--Present and fully develop a clear central topic.

--Have an effective introduction, body and conclusion.

--Use transitional devices throughout the writing.

--Show a strong command of grammar, capitalization, punctuation and spelling.

--Move to a different state if you want to be able to count past 10.

Armed with that handy info, now all I need is a topic. And the obvious choice is: a bunch of fifth-graders about to take the PASS test.

Let the column begin ...

***

It was the day of the big PASS test, and Jenna Brinson's fifth-grade class was nervous. Understandably so. After all, she had asked them to cheat on it so she could get a big, fat raise or at least a better job at another school where the kids are prettier and smarter.

Even though they knew it was wrong, they couldn't stand the thought of letting Ms. Brinson down. Not because they liked her. But because she had promised that if they held up their end of the deal they'd get to meet their favorite newspaper columnist in the entire world: Bryce Donovan.

On the one hand, they knew what she was asking them to do was morally wrong and possibly illegal. But on the other hand, this was BRYCE (expletive deleted) DONOVAN! I mean, come on. That guy is awesome.

So anyway, as the proctor (big word bonus) passed out the test, the students realized the time had come to make a decision. And that's when they did what any kid would do when faced with the prospect of taking a big test: They pretended to be sick.

One by one, the kids doubled over, clutching their stomachs and screaming in faux (fancy word bonus) pain. Though Ms. Brinson knew what was happening, she had no choice but to let them go to the office, where they all called their parents to come pick them up.

Back in the classroom all by herself, Ms. Brinson filled out every single test using crayons and her left hand so as to make it look like a bunch of, in her own words, "stupid fifth-graders" took them. At the end of the day, when the bell rang, she nervously took all the tests to the principal, who for the sake of this story did not seem to think it was the least bit odd that all 48 of her students went home sick on the same day or that they somehow had time to finish a four-hour test in 10 minutes.

A few weeks later, the results finally came back, and Ms. Brinson's class was the talk of the country. Newspapers, magazines and TV stations all across the nation wanted to interview the teacher whose students had all taken, and aced, the MCAT. (Apparently Ms. Brinson had accidentally downloaded the exam college graduates take to get into medical school.)

The next day, Ms. Brinson was asked to resign. Obviously, this made the kids sad. Again, not because they liked her. But because they weren't going to get to meet their No. 1 hero in life, Bryce Donovan.

Of course, as soon as Bryce Donovan heard this tragic news, he decided to do the right thing. So he reduced his appearance fee to $1 million and came and spoke to the children.

The end.

***

Well there you go, Ms. Brinson. A clean, high-scoring column that would make any PASS instructor proud.

In conclusion, I hope your kids enjoyed it. And more importantly, I hope you explain that this probably will be the only column I ever write that they should be allowed to read.

Bryce Donovan also wants to give a shout out to Oakbrook's guinea pigs, Mark Twain and George Eliot. Here's hoping you exceed your life expectancy of four years, guys! Reach Bryce at 937-5938 or bdonovan@postandcourier.com.