There was a class about life, drugs and sex as a teenager called Teen
Living which was fun because we were already talking about naughty
stuff so it wasn't as hard to work in ribald jokes. I would always
pretend that I was not quite sure what the teacher meant and then ask
follow ups that would be phrased in such a way as to have the
appearance of honest inquiry but just be funny. She was ot overly
happy about it but was not really that bad at handling my sas. One
time however when she had been talking about pregnancy for a bit she
mentioned that after nine months that it felt like you couldn't keep
you legs together. The pitch was so slow and right over the comedic
plate that I had to try to knock it out of the classroom.
“Not being able to keep your legs together is why you are in this
mess in the first place.” Bu-dumb-chaa. Low hanging fruit? More
like low hanging fruitlessly – no one laughed and as I had said it
when the teacher was behind me I didn't notice that she had closed in
behind me and was whacking me in the back of the head with the spine
of the book she was holding. It really hurt. What I didn't know was
that our sex-ed teacher was a director at the school for pregnant
girls and she was not really excited about jokes that blamed the
girls for getting pregnant. She was under the impression that the
naughty boys were the problem and I was one of those dirty vermin
myself. For the rest of class we got to hear about how men ruin
everything and they trick and manipulate women. I was sorry I had
ever made a lame joke both for the physical abuse and for the rant it
triggered. When I suggested that she just had a negative view of men
she denied it by saying she had sons and a husband that she loved. To
me that sounded like she didn't actually say she didn't but I could
see this was her do-not-go area and stayed quite.
