So authenticate your alibi or you just might have to start showing up to class like everyone else.

Listen up, I’ve got experience. I’d better, after spending seven semesters as a freshman.

I know the ropes. I’ve been around. I’ve seen lavatories on the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee campus that you never even knew existed. It’s truly amazing; I’ve never studied a subject for more than a comprehensive eight hours.

How do I do it? Excuses, excuses, excuses!

You too can breeze through college like me; it’s not hard. With proper timing and a well-stocked arsenal of deceitful justifications, you’ll have the professors compromising for you.

Now, the most important thing when it comes to lying directly to the face of your elite educator is this: choose an excuse that his or her field does not correspond with.

For example, I am on my way to be a male nurse; I’m not going to call my instructor to say “Sorry my paper is late; I came down with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.”

I’d get called on that, and so would you. Instead, I’d tell my instructor that I had a car problem — something wrong with the manifold.

You see? It’s those details that make your lie so legit. Once I was too hung-over to take an anthropology midterm. My lie: I had an allergic reaction to a breakfast bagel because it was adjacent to a donut containing peanut butter, which I am allergic to.

The professor gave me another five days to recuperate.

So authenticate your alibi or you just might have to start showing up to class like everyone else.

It’s imperative that you practice your dramatic effect before having to give your excuse. Make it sound true to you. Pretend that the grandpa whose funeral you had to rush to really was dead.

Smoke a pack of cigarettes before you have to call and explain why you lost your voice on the day of your speech. If you say you hurt yourself, hurt yourself.

It’s also a good idea to call or e-mail your professor at completely random times, always long after your deadline or test time. In fact, I’ve found it’s better to wait as long as possible. Let your professor marinate.

You shouldn’t be the one to face the heat, remember? You’re the one with the excuse!

Now that you’ve got your story straight, your drama down and your timing tight, hither comes the moment of truth — it’s time for your delivery. Don’t cop out with e-mails. They can be repetitive and informal, not to mention impersonal.

If you absolutely have to lie via e-mail, try holding your breath while you write out your entire message. This eliminates wordiness and conveys urgency well. Also, you never know if your professor believed it because of the lack of direct feedback. It’s best to just call in the middle of the night.

Before you dial, make sure you are calling from a place where you can scream. Don’t worry about waking up your roommates. In fact, invite them to watch — an audience can generate a lot of positive feedback and make you feel really good about yourself.

I’ve gotten to the point where I can really draw a crowd. Make sure not to laugh, though, because it’s easy to get giggly. The last thing you want to do is start cracking up when you’re shouting about how your aunt and uncle died in a terrible car crash.

Sometimes I’ll do a few squat thrusts or hold my breath and pinch myself for a long time before I call, just to get the sillies out. It’s good to be wheezing when the professor picks up.

The first thing to say to him or her should be, “Oh no!” In fact, you could start every sentence with it.

“Oh no, Prof. __, this is awful. Oh no, <something tragic> has happened, and I missed the <assignment/presentation/exam>.”

You should also say this when your professor becomes enraged with you.

A crucial thing to repeat to yourself when your professor puts you on the defense: don’t back down. Do not stop explaining your situation or babbling about your trauma. Use explicit language if you have to. And remember that the only person who’s lying is your professor when he or she says you need to be more responsible.

If it really boils down to it, just remind the professor that all he or she has to deal with is giving you a good grade. You’re the one who’s got to deal with the serious affliction or dead person.

Now that you know how to lie, you know how to get a degree. And trust me; making excuses doesn’t just end at graduation day. You can be a liar your whole life.

Post Magazine disclaimer: this piece thrives on creative journalism, identity-simulation, fantasy and digressive style. We do not encourage dishonesty or academic irresponsibility. We do, however, encourage paradigm-defying literature.

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