Page 9 of Please, Sir

“Purple condoms!” A boy shouts.

“Oh shit!” Another joins.

Soft conversation rolls in, rising quickly, until I feel like I’m drowning in chatter in less than ten seconds.

“C’mon now,” I say, raising my voice a bit. “Everyone, let’s get quiet now. Alright? I don’t want to send anyone to see Ms. Mitchell.”

The room grows quiet, because the kids are scared of Ms. Mitchell and her propensity to give out lunchtime detentions. Nothing scares a fourteen year old more than the threat of losing their social time.

“Dude,” one kid says quietly, yet loud enough to be heard. “Tug that down and your dick is a real life eggplant emoji.”

The class erupts in laughter. My cheeks flame, and not because I’m uncomfortable with this unit. No way. I’m twenty-four. They’re fourteen. I have no reason to be embarrassed to teach the things I went to school to teach.

“Look,” Alexa chides as she wraps and rewraps a strand of blonde hair around her pencil. “Miss Rivers is embarrassed.”

Mentally, I give her the bird. I am not embarrassed, I’m annoyed, but I can’t tell them that because being annoyed with your students is kind of gauche. Instead, I plaster on one of my many smiles and say, “I’m not embarrassed in the slightest. I’m just waiting for everyone to calm down so I can teach. The sooner I can teach this lesson, the closer we get to discussing the bowl on the table.”

Alexa sinks into her chair a bit, her smug expression fading as the noise in the room tapers off. They want the purple condoms. I remember being their age. You’re still not 100% sure how everything works, but you’re also too cool to admit it so you just act like a genius about all the things human body related. Their quiet, attentive faces tell me that getting to the condom talk is important to them.

I thought it would be.

That bowl of purple condoms doesn’t come in handy until the end of the reproduction unit, but it’s a bargaining chip. I have purple condoms out because I am actually trying to be relatable while teaching about safe sex, and they keep their yappers zipped so I can do my damn job until we get there.

Moms bribe toddlers with M&Ms and I bribe teens with condoms and information about how sex works. It’s one and the same.

A boy in the back, wearing a faded Bluebell Bruiser jersey,timidly raises his hand. I point to him because I can’t remember his name, and I swear to god I think I’ve seen a carbon copy of him on campus.

“Yes?”

He scoots forward in his seat, chewing at the inside of his cheek. His golden hair sticks up everywhere, and his jersey and jeans are crumpled to all hell. He’s a high school freshman that looks like a college freshman who had a long night out. His pale skin flares with color as he speaks. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

I glance at the white and black plastic clock on the wall. Ten after. “Sure, go ahead.”

The boy gets to his feet, shuffling past me, the rest of the students taking the opportunity to tease him the moment the classroom door shuts.

“He got a boner.”

“Totally went to go tug one out.”

I clear my throat. “Before we get to the bowl,” I say, internally smirking at how well the bowl is working to draw their attention. “We are starting this unit on the female body and its reproductive gifts.”

I’m not sure why, but I look at Jo Jo, and catch her eyes tipped down to her desk, cheeks red as she finger combs her hair to curtain her face. Alexa and Jasmine are unphased, and I’m ninety percent sure Alexa has a phone under her paper and is swiping on social media. After passing out a packet with all relevant coursework and chapters listed for the entire unit, I move back to the front of the room and wait for everyone to finish reading.

In my experience, the boys don’t care about this part. Sure, I’m gonna talk about vaginas and stuff, but mostly it’s gonna be ovulation related and the only ‘o’ word they care about isn’t ovulation. It’s usually the girls that grow nervous,especially the late bloomers or social wallflowers. I wonder if Jo Jo is a late bloomer as I glance out over the room of faces, and discover she is the only one left looking visibly uncomfortable.

I get started on the unit, only having to stop to give resting bitch face four times, which all in all is pretty good. By the time the bell has rung, I have a good idea of how long this unit will realistically take, and jot down some notes in my day planner. When the door finally closes, I look up to find that Jo Jo hasn’t left for her next class yet.

“Avoiding second period?” I ask lightly, reaching into my bag to pull out another stack of papers for my next class.

She doesn’t respond as I’m organizing, which makes me pause. I reach back, unclipping my hair, letting it fall down my back and around my shoulders. I close my eyes, enjoying a little moan at how good it feels to have it down again. Running my hands over my head, I wink and quietly admit, “I was a little nervous before the lesson so I put my hair up so I wouldn’t get sweaty. I sweat when I’m nervous.”

Jo Jo smiles, but it doesn’t lift her eyes, so I know now that she stayed back for a reason. Talking to teenagers, especially girls, is kind of like trying to not scare away a stray animal you’re trying to rescue. Move too fast, they’re gone. Say the wrong thing, gone. Use the wrong tone, splitsville. Do something they deem cringe? Forget it.

She has her arms wrapped around herself, the sleeves of her hoodie pulled over her palms partially as she sways a little in her chair.

“How’s school going? How’s cheerleading going? Are you excited for tryouts? How are you?” I ask, snatching the roll of paper towels from behind my desk, and my spray bottle of cleaner. I give an array of questions, hoping whatever is bothering her can somehow be coaxed out with what I’veprovided. I start cleaning the desks while I talk, and not because they need it, but because if I sit next to her or in front of her, it will be too much pressure. Staying busy, being there without lingering or hovering, that’s the play with a girl like Jo Jo. I know because… I was a lot like her ten years ago.

The helpful friend. The quiet girl on the cheerleading squad. The one who wants to make everyone happy, but doesn’t know how to make herself happy.

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