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."