The Great Jolly Rancher Heist

There are things I remember from kindergarten through second grade: mostly big significant moments, a couple details from how my teachers ran their classrooms, and little things like where my classrooms were. But third grade is the first year of school from which I have vivid memories of a lot more details. I remember fellow students, activities we did in class, and most especially my teacher, Mrs. Molar.

Mrs. Molar was, in my opinion, the coolest third grade teacher at Patrick McGaheran School. Before I even started school that year, I already knew about Mrs. Molar because she had been my sister’s third grade teacher. This made me feel like I had a connection to her from day one, and sure enough on the first day of school when she took attendance, Mrs. Molar asked if I was Meredith’s sister. I said yes, feeling like a little celebrity amongst my fellow students because the teacher already knew my family.

Mrs. Molar made third grade exciting. When she introduced herself to the class she said her name was Mrs. Molar and she was the biggest tooth we would ever have for a teacher. That year, she said, we would be learning our times tables, which would help us to figure out how old she was (she was 7 times 8 the year I had her). She taught us cursive writing which was very exciting at the time as I really wanted to have a signature. We learned a lot about writing in her class and one of our big projects was to write a book. Mrs. Molar is the first person I remember critiquing my writing in a way that has stuck with me to this day. (She would have something to say about how many sentences I’ve started with “Mrs. Molar” in this post alone. Variety makes writing interesting!) While she was kind, she suffered no fools. She demanded excellence in a way that made you want to succeed more than anything else. And success wasn’t perfection, success was doing your best.

Third grade is when I really started to recognize that the other kids at school did not all have the same life experience as me. Our conversations during work time or on the playground taught me all kinds of things about how we all had different middle names, different religions, different times and ways that we ate dinner (some people ate dinner from a drive thru in a car, can you imagine?). I think we kids discovered this in part because Mrs. Molar made a distinct effort for all of us to get to know each other deeply. She did this thing called “Student of the Day” where a selected student would get to sit in front of the class on a stool and the class would ask all sorts of questions: favorite food, favorite hobby, pets’ names, siblings names, et cetera. As the class interviewed the selected student, Mrs. Molar wrote the answers on the board so that by the end of the interview, the entire chalkboard was covered in information about the Student of the Day. Then the class had to write a paragraph about the Student of the Day, which was collected and given to said student to keep. Because we were third graders we wrote nice things to each other. This project helped us to make friends in class and made us each feel special as an individual.

Mrs. Molar also let us into her personal life. Not in an inappropriate way, but in a way that made us interested about her and understand that teachers are real people too. She was honest and genuine with us and didn’t treat us like little kids. She talked about her children and that her daughter was pregnant. We were updated all year long on the progress of the pregnancy. She told us when the baby was born but there were complications. The baby had gotten stuck in the pelvis (whatever that was) and was very sick. We witnessed when Mr. Molar came to school and pulled her into the hallway. We saw her start to cry and she walked back into the classroom and told us, “The baby died, guys.” We had a substitute for a little while after that and I’m sure we made her sympathy cards.

Third grade was the year my first pet, Bam Bam, died. The first thing I did when I got to school the day after was tell Mrs. Molar. This is a sure sign that I trusted her as, until I reached the age of about 25, I really did not enjoy speaking to adults other than my relatives. She listened and helped me tell a couple of my classmates so that I could sit with someone who would be sympathetic that day. Without saying a direct word about it, through the situation with the baby and Bam Bam, she showed our class that grief was normal and okay and that we could carry on after painful things. I doubt that was in the third grade curriculum.

I have had many excellent teachers in my life (including my mom!). Mrs. Molar is a standout in my memory because, looking back, I can see that I learned way more in her classroom than the times tables and how to write in cursive. This is why I so deeply regret the great Jolly Rancher heist of ‘94 or ‘95 (can’t remember which) that I perpetrated on her watch.

Currency in Mrs. Molar’s classroom was Jolly Ranchers. She kept a rectangular tin of them in her closet on the side of the room by the door. When one of us did something exceptionally well, we were told to go get a Jolly Rancher. When it was your turn as Student of the Day, you got to give the rest of the class Jolly Ranchers as they wrote their paragraphs about you. If you were sad about something: Jolly Rancher. If the whole class did well on a test: Jolly Ranchers for everybody! It wasn’t an every day thing, but it happened frequently enough that we all knew Jolly Ranchers were always a possibility if we were very good. It was a privilege to be told to go get a Jolly Rancher, and it felt very grown up because to get one we had permission to go into Mrs. Molar’s personal closet where she kept her coat and umbrella, something an irresponsible little kid would never be allowed to do.

One day, one of my classmates was coughing a lot. I don’t think she was actually sick with a cold or anything, it was more like she had a tickle in her throat. It was dry and sounded kind of painful, I remember. After several interruptions to the class because of the coughing, Mrs. Molar told my classmate to go get a Jolly Rancher. She did so, and the coughing subsided.

I observed this in fascination and quickly connected the dots between coughing and getting a Jolly Rancher. And this is when I put my dastardly plan into motion.

I do hope I was smart enough to not do this on the same day that the other little girl got a Jolly Rancher for coughing, but I honestly do not remember. Chances are good that I waited maybe three minutes before I myself started coughing. I tried to space the coughs out, making them sounds as natural as possible. I pretended to focus on my work, but I was definitely just thinking about how often I should cough and how long I would need to keep coughing before Mrs. Molar would give in.

It wasn’t too long. Maybe five or six coughing fits later and Mrs. Molar said, “Megan, go get a Jolly Rancher.” Success! I went to the closet and opened the tin, took my ill-won treasure, and returned to my desk.

Again, I hope I was smart enough to occasionally throw in another cough throughout the day to make the whole thing seem real, but I doubt it.

I only committed this thievery once. After getting my one Jolly Rancher I figured I had better not push it, so I counted it as a win and moved on, earning the rest of my Jolly Ranchers that year the honest way. At the time I did not feel bad about it, but I look back now and see a tremendous act of manipulation. And even though I am sure Mrs. Molar didn’t believe my fake little coughs for a second, I honestly still feel guilty about it. I think about it every time I see a Jolly Rancher.

There are so many things from that school year that I vividly remember and that pop up in my mind more than expected. Third grade was a very formative year, I learned so much and I can see the impact of those lessons over the years. But I hesitate to let myself think about the Jolly Rancher heist and really delve into whether or not manipulation is one of the skills I also picked up in third grade. I desperately hope not.

We recently had a wellness retreat at work, a day away from email and meetings just to disconnect and take care of ourselves. At this retreat we had small group discussions and one of the tasks was to go around the group and share how you would describe each group member to a stranger. When it was my turn to be described, I of course had a hard time listening because my group said many nice things about me and I am programmed to reject compliments. But something that all three of my group members said in one way or another was that I am an honest person. When I say something, they know I’m saying what I really think and feel. I am genuine, they told me.

That was something I was very proud to hear. Despite my sordid past of Jolly Rancher trickery, stealing money from my sister (sorry, Meredith), among other unsavory behaviors, I seem to have managed to come out the other side being an honest person. Many people have influenced and taught me and molded me into who I am today, but I have to give credit to Mrs. Molar. She showed her students how to be kind, yet direct and honest, and how to invite other people into one’s life and share oneself in a genuine way. Elementary school is not just for reading, writing, and arithmetic. It is where you start to learn how to be a person in the world.

And, if you’re sneaky enough, how to get an extra Jolly Rancher along the way.