Prior to my Bar Mitzvah, I went to three years of Hebrew school, which meant classes after my regular school at the synagogue one or two afternoons a week (I can't remember the exact schedule).
Next to the temple was a Dairy Queen, and occasionally when the six boys in that class arrived before Hebrew school started, we would go to the Dairy Queen for a cone.
One day we arrived at the temple and the rabbi hadn't. The doors were locked. So we went to the Dairy Queen and bought ice cream, and then sat on the steps of the temple with our book bags and ice cream cones, waiting for the rabbi.
When he arrived and saw us he was furious. Why? Because the ice cream wasn't kosher. Even though we weren't inside the building with it, he felt we were being blasphemous in some way.
He yelled at us for awhile, and then said, "I suppose you'd rather eat non kosher ice cream than study the Torah." Before we could admit that, well, ice cream was preferable to Hebrew School, he hit us with the worst punishment he could think of: "Fine, sit out here and eat your ice cream, then."
We spent the entire class period outside, while he sat inside the building. No doubt he felt that by denying us our Hebrew studies he was causing us great sadness.
It was the best class we ever had.
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