Actually, this scoreboard is probably pretty inaccurate. It’s not like I can do a survey. “Tell me girls – who among you have successfully fought off sperm after having my excellent Sex Ed lessons?” I reckon the number will go up significantly after next week. I’m going to find some foul pictures of herpes and genital warts and rashes and crabs to show them. When I was at the institute I pictured myself surrounded by posters of the UN Declaration of Human Rights, Environmental issues, street children in Cuba, The House of Commons, protesters and of course nice colourful writing scaffolds. Actually, it’s giant infected penises. Just what every girl wants.
Back to my impregnated girls…
I had this class on my timetable – 8BT – and ten minutes into my first lesson (I’d been trying to be mean: “WHY ARE YOUR BAGS ON YOUR DESKS? WHAT IS THAT MP3 PLAYER DOING IN MY LESSON?” “GET YOUR PEN OUT THIS INSTANT”) My head of department comes in. Chaos erupts amongst 8BT. “We want you!! We hate this new teacher!” They start to chant her name like football supporters. I turn round and pretty much snarl at them. They are successfully subdued. I take that first lesson. I make self depreciating jokes when they say they want their old teacher back. I notice and deal with the class bully. I let them write in coloured gel pens (I have no idea why so many teachers have a problem with this, but am increasingly glad they do. I couldn’t give a rats ass, and it’s making me uber popular in the lower school). Anyway – I’ve pretty much won them round by the end of the lesson, and have put them on the “happy face” side of the interactive white board in my head.
To cut a long story short, HOD stole them back, giving me a much appreciated free period. Which is all fine and dandy. Until today, HOD's just leaving the office and two girls from that class are skulking around outside. “Hello girls, how are you?” “Is Miss in?” I wonder whether that stings as much as the chanting did. They come in. HOD leaves us. They say came to me because I’m young, and will understand their slang. I say I’ll try. They tell me their friend (at which point they both look at me and eye each other pointedly, and then in unison: “why you sayin’ it was me for?!”) was “wacking the head.” I feel desperately uncool as I say “do you mean giving oral sex?” They do. He got semen on his hands and felt her up. Foolish urchin. I very seriously tell them that sperm are on a mission to impregnate them (deparment policy) and that whoever this is should get a pregnancy test, and I talk for a minute about hideous diseases and then how easy most are to cure if you catch them early. I try to find the nurse's leaflet that tells them where the STD clinic is. The bell sends them on their way. I do my research, find the nurses leaflet, and get directions from the school to the nearest GUM clinic. I find them in maths class, and give it to them. I really hope it isn’t one of them, but sadly I'm pretty certain if there are 14 year olds having sex in this school, it's those two.
No comments:
Post a Comment