Constipation

While I have problems with many students, one student, Bernie*, is consistantly problematic. I have not had a single class this entire school year in which Bernie hasn't disrupted my lesson multiple times, save for those blissful days where he was absent due to suspension. Bernie inevitably gets excused for his behavior, however, since he's been diagnosed with an alphabet's worth of disorders (ADHD, etc) and is always either over- or under-medicated according to his mother.

Today, I begin class and Bernie isn't there, which is exciting because that means I can get twice as much done. As I stop at my desk to pick up a book, I smell a rank fart. I turn my head, but no one is close enough to be a plausible suspect. I know I didn't do it, so... I peek under my desk and there lays Bernie in hiding, giggling. I command him to get out. Bernie asks how I knew he was under there, and I quip, "I smelled you before I saw you." He giggles again the class rightfully berates him for always being so gassy.

Bernie asks to be kicked out of class, which is alarming. Though at any given point he's worthy of being booted, not once has he asked for this to happen, making me wary of his motives. "I feel ill," Bernie says. "I need to throw up." I don't buy his story, but I would rather set him loose than possibly contend with vomit.

A few minutes later, Bernie returns with a handful of snacks from the vending machine. "I thought you were throwing up?" I press. "I tried, but I couldn't throw up," he responds, merrily eating some chips. I ignore Bernie for a while, which is a mistake considering I next find him trying to climb atop a bookshelf.

"What's your problem?" I ask.
"I'm not feeling well, I need to go to the nurse," Bernie replies, as if his response is justification for his behavior.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"I think I'm constipated."
"You think you're constipated?" I sputter back.
"Yeah."
"All right, you can go," I say as I write him a pass. I use a fuchsia crayon to scrawl a note: "Bernie to the nurse. He 'thinks he's constipated.' - Mr. [Kevin]" Afterwards, I proudly declare aloud that it is my favorite note I’ve ever written.

Fifteen blissful minutes pass before Bernie returns shouting. “Mr. [Kevin], you punked me! You think I’m stupid!”
“What?” I ask.
“I know what you did, you think you’re so funny.”
“You’re going to have to explain…”
“You wrote that I’m constipated on the note! Everyone in the health office was making fun of me.”
I laugh aloud. “Yeah, well, you told me you were constipated.”
“But I didn’t know what that means! I thought it meant I couldn’t throw up, but then the nurse asked me when was the last time I took a boo boo.”
I could only continue laughing.
Bernie continues, too. “You embarrassed me on purpose! I had to tell them I could poop. I can poop!”
I shake my head. “Shh! Don't worry, we know. We smelled you earlier.”