Life Lesson from a Cheese Cube

It was one of those learning experiences you would just as soon read about in the life of someone else. I was a sixth grader at Garrison Consolidated School. Delores Bays was my teacher for the second year in a row—she taught the fifth and sixth grades together. She was a strictly business type of teacher who allowed absolutely no misbehavior from her students.

It was chili day in the lunchroom cafeteria. That also meant that you received a peanut butter sandwich, carrot and celery sticks, and cubes of American cheese. The cubes were a real temptation to some of us boys, especially when we were not too hungry. They were excellent projectiles to toss at an unwary enemy.

I am not sure exactly how it happened, but I made the totally unwise decision to throw a cube of cheese at someone. The memory seems to unfold in slow motion when I think about it now. In mid-toss, Mrs. Eakins, our principal, opened the “spy door” from her office and caught me in the act. Now, if Mrs. Bays was a Nazi storm trooper, Mrs. Eakins was the Fuhrer. She absolutely terrified me. Her yell of “stop that immediately” reverberated off the walls of the cafeteria. I stopped immediately. Sitting like a choir boy the rest of the lunch time, I ate the remainder of my cheese cubes, hopefully destroying any damaging evidence in the process.

I walked back to our classroom like a condemned criminal heading to his execution. I was sure Mrs. Bays was going to kill me. I had embarrassed her in front of the principal, the worst possible offense. In my mind, I was already dividing my worldly goods among my survivors.

Back in our classroom, I waited for the explosion. It never came. Mrs. Bays, a very wise woman who--I now know—really cared about me, simply said, “Phil, I want you to go to Mrs. Eakins’ office and apologize for your behavior.”

Well, as you can imagine, the gas chamber would have been easier. The trip to the principal’s office I have somehow blocked from conscious memory. Repression would be Freud's diagnosis.

Needless to say, it marked the end of my cheese-throwing career. It also taught me a very important lesson about accepting responsibility for your behavior. Sometimes when you do something wrong, you are able to make amends via restitution. Sometimes all you can do is to say that you are sorry and change your behavior for the future.

In retrospect, it was one of the most important lessons I ever learned in grade school. Thanks, Mrs. Bays.

-----Phil LeMaster