In high school, I enrolled in the gifted American History class. Our teacher took the first quarter off because she and her husband had just adopted a baby. That meant a substitute teacher. I was already nervous about taking a gifted class, and without the usual teacher? This could be a tough first quarter.
As it turned out, our sub was amazing. She was experienced in gifted teaching and American history. She had a great personality and was able to engage us in meaningful conversations. She was very helpful in prepping us for the projects we had to do.
When our time with her came to an end, I was sad. We had gotten so used to her teaching style. I couldn’t imagine switching to a new teacher, even though we would be getting the regular teacher who had shaped the course content and format in the first place.
I felt like we should do something on our last day together to honor our amazing sub. Being a teenager, all I could come up with was a pizza party. I talked it over with my mom and my classmates, and it was agreed: a surprise pizza party for our beloved substitute teacher to thank her for all she had done to help us through that quarter.
Sounds simple, right? Not quite. Our school had a strict policy of guarded, locked gates. No admittance without formal administrative permission in advance. That sounded like too much for me, and I assumed I would be turned down. So, in very uncharacteristic fashion for the uber-cautious, rule-following girl I was (and still am today), I decided to skip asking for permission and just ask forgiveness later.
There was also the part about who would pay the expense for the pizza. Certainly, my minimal allowance money wouldn’t cover it. Some of my classmates were willing to chip in, while others were hesitant. Some thought we shouldn’t be doing this in the first place. Finally, my mom agreed to pay for the pizza up front. If I could get reimbursements from my classmates, so much the better.
I went to Pizza Pub, my favorite hangout, and talked to the manager. That was also very uncharacteristic for me. I was shy and definitely not bold. But I really wanted this to happen, and I just knew Pizza Pub was the place that could make it happen.
Thankfully, the manager said he loved the idea and he knew the guard at the high school. He told me the guard would let him through, and it wouldn’t be a problem. I paid him with my mom’s money, and it was all arranged.
As the day approached, my classmates who were supportive of the idea told me that if things went badly, they would deny any support. It was all on me. I was surprisingly okay with that because I felt so strongly we should do this. I was willing to take the fall, if need be.
The day arrived. We participated in class, but everyone was watching the clock for the magic hour. I felt so nervous. Some of my classmates giggled. Others pretended not to look at me.
The knock on the door. Our teacher walked over to answer. In walked the pizza delivery team. She was stunned. But smiling. When she asked who had made this unapproved activity happen, every person in the classroom pointed to me. I was relieved when she invited us to join her and let the pizza party begin.
When our regular teacher returned after the quarter break, she handed me a note that had been left on her desk. It was a thank you card from our sub. She said how much she appreciated our wanting to celebrate with her, and how much she enjoyed the pizza party. She wrote, “I will always remember the pizza girl.”
Most of the students reimbursed my mom for their portion of the pizza, and my mom was happy to make up the difference. She was glad we had done that act of gratitude for our substitute teacher. She also appreciated how the substitute teacher had made that first quarter very engaging and helpful for us.
Our regular teacher called me out in front of the whole class. She said, “I understand you did something you weren’t supposed to do.”
I nodded as everyone looked at the ground.
She simply said, “I’m keeping an eye on you.”
It was impossible to read her expression. To this day, I don’t know what she thought of our rule-bending party. But I also knew she wouldn’t have to worry about keeping an eye on me. It was unlikely I would step out of character again. And I didn’t. I enjoyed the rest of the school year, had a great time with more American history projects and class discussions, and followed every rule for the rest of the year.
To this day, I’m still a rule-follower. But I know deep inside, I have the heart of a rule-bending pizza girl.
