My fifth grade teacher, a novice PB&J sandwich maker, followed my directions. Things went horribly awry when she placed the peanut butter side up on top of my grape jelly laden slice of bread. Embarrassed, I refused to eat this imperfect creation. She instructed me to give it to our classroom's rabbit. The rabbit, too, refused to eat the offending sandwich, but every ant in the building scurried to the feast. I picked up sticky, ant-covered sandwich while my PB&J smeared classmates watched with interest. PB&J still makes me gag. I did, however, develop a strange affinity for rabbit stew.