Sunday, January 20, 2008

I'm sorry. So very, very sorry.

For some reason, today I was reminded of the Sunday School class I attended when I was 12.
(It may or may not of had something to do with the darling class of three year olds that I was teaching today. There are seven of them, and ONE of them was happy to be there. The rest really missed their mommies. At least none of them kicked me today :0)
Back to my 12 year old self. There were 14 kids in our Sunday school class. 12 girls and 2 boys. Our teacher's name was Stanley Bates.*
*Name may or may not have been changed to protect the embarrassed.
We probably should have referred to him as "Brother Bates" but we all called him Stan.
Stan was a young twenty something guy with a lovely wife and infant daughter. He was very patient with us even though I'm sure we drove him absolutely crazy!

The first thing I would like to say to Stan is "I'm sorry. So very, very sorry."

I apologize for the times we would sneak out the back door of the church to go to Tammy's house to eat cookies instead of attending your class.
I'm sorry.
(but seriously, if you had brought cookies more often, we probably would have stayed)

I apologize for the time we toilet papered your house. You really should admit, however, that we did a fantabulous job. The trees, and the porch were very artistically decorated with the two ply Charmin. The best part, however, was how we tore the toilet paper into a million squares and evenly distributed them in pretty patterns all over your lawn. It was beautiful.

A true work of art.

If we had known that it would rain that night, we would have saved the toilet papering for another time............

Probably.

I will never forget driving past your house the next day to see you out in your front lawn with a rake trying to scoop up the disintigrating toilet paper.

Like I said, I'm so very sorry.

Then there was the time when we somehow roped Stan into having all of us over to his house for a party. What a good sport. He only got moderately mad when three girls were doing back handsprings in his living room. (I do need to mention that I was NOT one of them. I am gymnastically challenged)
I really don't remember much else about the party, it's the ride home that sticks out in my mind.
When Stan had finally decided that the party was over (he'd had enough), he very graciously offered to drive us home (jumped at the opportunity to get rid of us)
He packed about 9 of us in his tiny car and drove away return us to our parents. (this was WAY before seatbelt laws)
Just before we got to the first house, I may or may not have suggested that we have a chinese fire drill when he stopped the car.
When he stopped at the first girl's house, we all got out and ran around the car three times, yelling, and making all sorts of noise, then all piled back in the car.
We did this for the next three houses, each time Stan's face got redder and redder. For some reason he looked frustrated. He started shaking, kept looking at his watch, and rolling his eyes.
Next, it was my turn to be dropped off. When we got to my street, I pointed to a house and told him to stop there. We got out and had our Chinese fire drill, and then we all got back in the car.
"Sorry Stan" I said "that's not where I live."
I then had him stop at two more houses before finally stopping at my own. At each stop we got out of the car and ran around it three times.
Poor Stan.
As I was running into my house (finally) I realized that a girl in my class lived directly behind me, so I ran out my back door, through the yard, and around her house to get there just as Stan was dropping Annie off at her house.
I got there just in time for the Chinese fire drill.
As I ran around the car, Stan stuck his head out the window and said "I THOUGHT I GOT RID OF YOU!"
Poor, poor Stan.
I think he may have been close to tears.
Again, Stan, I am So very.......very.......very ......sorry.

About two years later Stan and his family moved away.
Quite a few years later, I ran into Stan and his wife at the wedding of one of the girls that had been in his Sunday school class.
We chatted for a while, then he said to me,
"You know, I'm really impressed with how you all turned out. I honestly believed that none of you would ever amount to anything."

"Thanks Stan."

14 comments:

Marilyn said...

Hey-didn't you know that t.p.ing someone's house is the highest form of teenage adulation? We NEVER t.p'd someone's house that we didn't like!

Jen said...

Poor Stan.

Melissa said...

I will whole heartedly admit to some serious teacher torturing, but man... you guys were RUTHLESS!! :)

Heidi said...

I taught high school. For many, many years, I worried over the fate of the world.

Then I remembered that people grow up and, you know, get a clue.

Poor Stan.

Magirk said...

I felt bad for Stan the whole time I was reading this!!

Funny story, though.

I never tortured teachers. Too freakin' shy. Besides, my mom would have crushed me if she ever heard about it.

utmomof5 said...

Poor, poor Stan I am feeling really sad for him. I treated one of my SS teachers even worse than that. It is still a family joke to this day all the things I (and the whole class I was just kinda the ring leader) did to him. He was one of those guys who just was asking for it!!! You know the kind, I think he still goes to church so at least we didn't make him go inactive! =)

Christina

Kellan said...

That was so funny (gymnastically challenged - HA)! Sorry Stan - HA! I loved this.

Hi Jill - very nice to meet you. Thanks for coming by and ... the next time they don't give you that fork, just say, "GIVE ME THE FORK. GO ON - GO GET IT AND GIVE.IT.TO.ME!!!!

Hope to see you soon - have a good day. Kellan

Kellan said...

Hi Jill - thanks for coming by - nice to see you. Have a good afternoon - Kellan

Katie said...

Haha... ironically, the first time I ever went TPing was at a party at my Sunday school teacher's house! He took us to another house that was also having a Sunday school party, and we did 'em good! My friends and i decdided that it was so much fun that we TPed quite a lot after that. But like one of your other commenters said, we never did a house of a person we didn't like. :)

Toni said...

I totally enjoyed reading your posts. I will be bookmarking your blog.

Thanks for stopping by my blog. It gave my ego a great big boost as it was only my second day to blog.

BTW, we used to eat Sunday School teachers. I believe our class was notoriously bad. I think we were about 14. One only lasted a couple of weeks.

Now that I have teenagers, I call my parents and apologize profusely and thank them humbly.

The MomBabe said...

JILL! The first rule of TPing is to go to McDonald's and beg off those giant rolls.... oh, the havic I left in my wake.

AzĂșcar said...

I owe some people some apologies too...

utmomof5 said...

I gave you an award, check out my blog for the scoop.

Christina

Nigel said...

Hi, My wife Lois told me to read your blog. Hilarious stuff. Anyway, when I was a teenager our Sunday School teacher would cry every week and beg the branch president to release her from teaching us. We all owe her a big apology. It was a small branch in Pennsylvania, and he really had no one to replace her with. So sometimes we wouldn't see her for as much as 4-6 weeks. She always came back and we'd make her cry/beg again. In all fairness, some of it was her over-reacting. But there were other times--like once one of my friends ignited a lively debate about all mankind stemming from Adam and Eve and how all that incest was clearly against the commandments...