Perverted Students

My ninth grade students are utterly perverted. Truthfully, I was too at their age (and I'll save you the trouble of commenting that I still am - shut up,) but I never put my teachers in a situation where they were forced to acknowledge this fact.

Since I'm in a new classroom, there are still some drawers that I have not yet opened. When a student asks for paperclips which I do not have, I decide to check some of the other nooks of the room as I have previously found other supplies left behind by the room's former occupant. Opening one drawer, I see nothing but two pieces of a shredded napkin and a long hair. I comment to the student that the drawer's contents are "weird" and the student replies with a suggestive, "What have you been doing, Mr. [Kevin]?" It occurs to me that this might be some sort of masturbation reference, but my honors student wouldn't possibly say such a thing to eir teacher. "What is that supposed to mean?" I say, giving em a chance to clarify. Without a sense of fear, ey says, "Oh you know..." For crying out loud, it is a masturbation reference. "That's gross," I say and walk away.

This incident is not isolated. When I have my students write extended metaphors or similes for life, one of my respectful students volunteers, "Life is like sex: good when you're with the right people." I remind everyone what kind of subjects are school appropriate, then take the next volunteer: "Life is like Flaming Hot Cheetos: it's good." Hmm, I might prefer inappropriate to stupid. I ask the student to push it further and make the comparison deeper. "It's... crunchy?" "Well, explain it. How is life crunchy?" "Um... okay, nevermind. Life is like an orgasm." Exasperated, I tell the student, "No, no, no, let's stick to Cheetos."

In my class for students still learning the English language, I have a student, "Ned," who emigrated from Cambodia a few years ago. Ned is adorably innocent compared to eir peers, a class comprised of mainly Mexican and Mexican-American students. When we discussed the concept of something being more valuable when it is rare for context in a story, I used baseball card as an example. Since then, not a class has gone by where Ned doesn't try to sell me eir one worthless baseball card, confused as to why I won't give em thousands of dollars for it. In our last class, I grew so tired of it, I actually check Ebay to demonstrate the card's real worth. Ned is unimpressed with the going rate, unwilling to go below a few hundred dollars.

For one assignment, I break my students, including Ned, into groups to design a review game for the short stories we've read. The Latino students decide they want to make "this Mexican game where you take a donkey and put a tail on it." Evidently, they feel Pin the Tail on the Donkey is too cultural for me to be familiar with it. I approve the game, so long as they incorporate a trivia aspect into it somehow. Ned is placed in charge of drawing the donkey; it looks more like a deformed dinosaur. As I circle around the room, I spy Ned cutting construction paper into tiny penises. I inquire what exactly ey is doing, and Ned replies that ey is making donkey tails. Oh right, donkey tails, though Ned's rendition of donkey tails is about as phallic as one could get without drawing veins on it. Rather than contributing any assistance, Ned's group mates just laugh at em, though Ned clearly doesn't get it. This much is evidenced when Ned places the "tail" between the dino-donkey's hind legs as an example of how the game will work. I have to continue "monitoring other students" so that I don't burst into laughter.

Later, I see the donkey idea has been scrapped in favor of a turkey, easily drawn by tracing a hand. You're all familiar with the classic game Pin the Tail on the Turkey, right? One of the main components of the game is to write clear instructions for the game for others to follow. The instructions that Ned writes are pretty much incomprehensible, except for the objective portion. "You win if you stick the tail up the turkey's butt." Apparently, putting the tail (which looks like a penis, remember) up the butt is what distinguishes Pin the Tail on in the Turkey from its lesser donkey counterpart. Upon discovering this peculiarly phrased rule, I cannot contain my laughter, a hearty, unmanageable chuckle which Ned questions. "I'm just... it's... it's an amazing game." Ned's response? "Does that mean you'll buy my baseball card?"

If any of my ninth grade students are going to be perverted, it better be by accident.