Today I mailed a thank you card that should have been given personally to a teacher in 1979. That teacher made a split second decision that changed the course of my life—he didn’t rat me out.
It started as a plan on the school bus… one of those plans you make in the eighth grade and can’t wait to carry out as soon as possible. In other words… not well thought out and probably NOT a good plan.
We decided to drink before school the next day. (See I told you it wasn’t a good plan.) Each of the three of us brought something from our parent’s alcohol stash. One girl brought a can of beer and some port wine; another brought her dad’s favorite scotch and me, tapping into Art and LaVonne’s liquor cupboard, brought brandy and sloe gin. It was quite the combination…. especially when we mixed it all together in an old coffee can we found in the woods. I didn’t know it then but it was my first Wapatui Party! We each drank some. I apparently drank more than my share and off to class I went.
The first period was an experience! Never had math been a comedy show but today it was a riot! I had band second period. I couldn’t stop giggling long enough to play my trumpet so I finally gave up. By third period science I was feeling pretty brave and confident. I sat down at the table with the cutest boy in class. I had a secret crush on him all year and today was the day I would “make it happen.” We chatted and laughed until our science teacher quieted us down. After all, it was test day.
After a few minutes of quiet I started to feel ill. The room started to spin. I was going to be sick. I tapped cutie on the shoulder and told him I didn’t feel too good. He flagged down the teacher just as I threw up all over the table…. so much for making a good impression.
The smell was obviously alcohol. The helpful boy behind me said “Tell him you ate pizza for breakfast because that smells like beer when you puke.”
The teacher took one look at me; one look at the table and you could see he knew what I had done. He sent me to the locker room to change clothes. Then he cleaned up my mess while the rest of the class tried to finish their test without gagging.
I was devastated. I knew my life was over. I would be sent to the office, forced to tell on my friends, suspended and immediately killed by my parents. The embarrassment would be unbearable. I knew this would ruin my reputation… in a small town it takes only one small mistake and you are branded for life. (If you don’t believe me just ask the boy who picked his nose in the third grade and was called “pickles” until the day he graduated!) They would call me “pukey” or “cheap drunk” or some other embarrassing nickname!
Yet, none of these things happened. When I returned to class the teacher told everyone that I had made a mistake. He asked that they not talk about this to anyone and explained that we all make mistakes and sometimes we need a second chance. That was that. I was stunned. Too stunned to thank him.
I have never forgotten that day and I have come to realize over the years what a difference that teacher’s decision made in my life. I was given a do-over and I am so thankful to him for that…it just took me 35 years to say it. Thank you Mr. Tav with all my heart. You changed my life.
You never know which split
second might be the zigzag bolt
dividing all that went before, from
everything that comes next.
Barbara Kingsolver, Flight
Behavior
Taste of Home columnist Sandy (Anderson) Holthaus lives on a farm in South Haven, MN with her husband, Michael, and their children Zoe, Jack and Ben. Her heart remains on the North Shore where she grew up with her parents, Art and LaVonne Anderson of Schroeder. She enjoys writing about her childhood and mixes memories with delicious helpings of home-style recipes.
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