Pregnant Students

I have an overly amorous couple in one of my classes. They are unflaggingly in love like only a high school couple could be. Because of them, I have had to institute new rules about touching and kissing in the classroom. On some occasions, they have refused to part; one day I couldn't get them to quit their tongue wrestling, so I kicked them out of my classroom, where they were moved to the in-school suspension room together where I'm told the problem persisted. Also, since they're partners in crime (and in love, awww), they have been outright suspended together twice, allowing them an opportunity to stay home alone together.

In case you can't tell where this story is going... she's pregnant! They're 14-years-old and couldn't be happier. A baby is exciting when you're in love! Fortunately, the child wasn't conceived in my classroom, but I imagine if I had ever had my back turned to them for long enough, it would be a strong possibility.

I first heard of the pregnancy from other students, so I wisely brushed it off as a rumor. Then I recalled an incident in class where the girl had lifted her shirt to reveal her belly to her boyfriend, which he rubbed. I saw this happening out of the corner of my eye, but having learned to choose my battles and that commenting would only alert my other students to this occurrence, I elected to ignore it. "Are you looking at my roll?" she asked me, gesturing to her stomach. "Of course I'm not," I said, adding, "You don't have a roll." Sure she had some pudge, but I was insistent that it did not exist, unwilling to promote an unhealthy body image. Little did I know it was an emerging sign of pregnancy.

Thankfuly, I never had to ask them about whether this was true. Returning from yet another paired suspension, the duo officially confirmed the rumor to the class because they are oh-so proud! At least I can take solace in knowing most of my students call them stupid behind their backs.

The mother-to-be is smart. Were she to apply herself, she could accomplish a lot, but instead settles for Ds. On the other hand, the father-to-be is, diplomatically, decidedly not bright. Some might call him an idiot, I just call him my student. I probably don't need to convince many of you of this fact, but they are not ready to be parents, despite their assertions to the contrary. Not only are they obviously unemployed, but they aren't even on track to graduate and obtain themselves a job one day. For months, the impending mommy has an outstanding $5 liberry fine that she insists she can't pay, so it's unclear how this child, this child of a child actually, will be financially cared for.

Although I have a wealth of snide comments I could make on the topic, I ever-so-professioanlly resist the urge to play them during class. I hear the gossip and stay mum. The boy moved in with the girl's family, and when that quickly failed, she moved in with his family instead. Now, they get to sleep in the same bed, since, you know, she's pregnant already.

She missed my class last week because she was having her first pre-natal doctor visit. She called her beau during my class to give him an update and I was conflicted as to whether to stop the conversation since it was interrupting my class, but I didn't want to come across as an unreasonable asshole. Besides, I want to stay on their good side so they'll name the baby after me. I'm going to have to push hard: he wants to name it after himself. At the rate they're reproducing, there could be four generations of people with his exact name in the time it takes most people to produce a junior.

Daddy was insufferable during this period without his woman girl. He was obnoxious and couldn't sit still, throwing books off my shelf out of what he called boredom. I encouraged him to hug his backpack since he didn't have his usual friend to snuggle with today, to which he complied. I playfully reminded him that the no kissing rule was still in effect, and while some of the other students laughed, he didn't get it. I mean, even by his own girlfriend's admission, he is slow. Later in the period, he loudly played with a miniature skateboard toy that people manuever with their fingers. I gave him a couple of warnings to cut it out, but eventually I had to confiscate it. I had to take away a toy from him, as if he's still a kid. Oh wait, because he is still a kid. As I took it away, I told him that his skateboarding was driving me nuts. He responded, "Yeah, well, you're busting a nut." I gave him an are-you-kidding? look and asked, "Are you going to raise a kid with that mouth?" I know I said I wasn't going to comment, but I should get at least one good slam, right?

Someone asked Daddy if he wanted a boy or a girl. "Duh, a boy," was his response. "What if it's a girl?" someone asked. "I don't want a girl, that's gay." Now, I'm legitimately afraid for the unborn child, especially if its genetalia proves unpreferable to the father. Most would consider the act of reproduction to be a predominately heterosexual act, regardless of the ultimate gender, but Daddy believes otherwise. Attention all fathers with daughters: you're gay. Maybe you've fooled yourself into believing you're straight since you've been in a longterm, sexually active relationship with a woman, but that girl you've created is a sure sign of your closeted homosexuality. My student, however, is a man, so you can be sure he's going to have a boy. And only have boys from here on out. Actually, only wanting boys is a mentality that strikes me as particularly gay, but whatever.

So, yeah, my babies are having babies. I've been so frustrated with what I see in this generation, but I've held out some hope that one day they'll grow up and learn to be better people. But if they're currently breeding the next generation and inevitably passing on their frightning knowledge (or lack there of) and opinions to them, as well, then we're thoroughly fucked. Although we're getting fucked, hopefully, we'll at least know to use protection.

I am sort of upset that I won't still be working at the school when the baby is born. Perhaps I'll send a card, especially if it's a girl: "Congratulations -- You're Gay!"