My Diseased Mind

Well, It Was Some Kind Of Education

In 8th grade, I had Coach S. for history. He was sometimes out on days that had major sporting events (a fairly common occurrence in a Texas junior high) scheduled, in order to prepare, or whatever they had to do. We had a substitute who was not unfamiliar to us. For some ridiculous reason, she decided she was going to teach us, and proceeded to deliver a lecture on American History (pre-Reconstruction). We were all a little skeptical, and a little cheesed off, because a substitute means an hour of paid vacation for the students. She was violating the order of things, committing a sin against nature. Alfredo was ready; he knew what he had to do. The first time she asked if we had any questions, his hand shot up. The whole class did a kind of synchronized double-take. When called upon, he very clearly and he very loudly, asked, “What’s a clit?”

Boom, Alfredo’s on his way to the office, but his head was high. He’d done a noble thing, and preserved a way of life. There would be no history learned that day, no dangerous precedents set. The substitute was broken, and spent the rest of the class sitting at the desk, glaring at us.

She never did tell us what a clit is.