10:45 am or The Time that Thing I feared to Happen Finally Happened

I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s every teacher’s biggest fear…well, after school shootings and such. For 21 years, I managed to avoid it though I knew it was only a matter of time. What are the odds that it never happened? There had been a couple of close calls, but each time a student had covered for me. For that, I will forever be grateful.

I was thirty when I started teaching. Older than most new teachers but still youngish and fresh. I was much more slender and cared more about my appearance. I wore makeup daily and would’ve been embarrassed to show up to work without it. Now, I can’t even remember the last time I wore makeup, not even on special occasions. It just seems too much of a hassle. For clothes, I actually went into stores and tried them on. Now, it’s just fast fashion from China. Yeah, I feel bad about it, but I haven’t had a raise in years despite my health insurance going up annually. The longer I teach, the less money I make. If I can buy ten articles of clothes from Temu for $100, I’m going to do it. If it doesn’t fit quite right or flatter my figure, I couldn’t care less. I’m good at my job and I enjoy it. The way I look just isn’t important to me anymore.

The first time a student covered for me was right at the beginning of class. I was coming in from hall duty after the bell rang and had grabbed a stack of papers to pass out. As I took a step it happened, silent but deadly! I froze.

“Oh my god! Ernesto, stop doing that! It’s so gross,” a female sophomore in the front row said. Ernesto laughed, looked at me, and winked.

“My bad,” he said laughing.

“Miss, he does this every day,” Ava declared. “You have to do something about him!”

“What can I do?” I asked. “It’s a biological function. Everyone does it.”

“Send him to the principal or nurse or something,” she demanded. “I shouldn’t have to put up with his smells!” She was angrily holding her nose due to the noxious fumes that I emitted. Ernesto was still laughing as were other teen boys in the class.

“How do you think the principal would react if I wrote a referral for a normal bodily function?” I asked. “I’d probably be laughed out of the office.”

“What if I promised to open the door and stick my rear out next time?” he asked.

“Every time!” she insisted. The thing is, Ernesto and I didn’t have a close rapport. He was absent a lot due to truancy and suspensions for shenanigans. He wasn’t a bad kid, he was impishly mischievous, and as a result, I hadn’t had time to get to know him that well. In this moment, he was my knight in smelly armor.

“Ernesto, where have you been for two weeks?”

“Snorting cocaine off a hooker’s ass,” he responded. It wasn’t until years later that I learned he was referencing a movie. I took him at face value. After this moment though, we did build rapport. He was able to improve his attendance enough to get credit for my class. I have no idea about his other classes. One day he came after school to get caught up on assignments. Though I really wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to ask why he covered for me that day. It doesn’t matter–that happened at least 15 years ago. I’ve seen his profile pop up on Facebook. He seems to be a proud dad. And I’m proud of him.

The second time was the opposite scenario. Again, it was a male student who helped me out. This time I was teaching seniors and one was at the pencil sharpener making a racket while I was trying to give instructions to the class. Right as I approached him to remind him of the rules about sharpening pencils while someone was addressing the class, a loud one popped out. He coughed and started sharpening frantically.

“Jeez, Joe,” his friend razzed him, “All that noise you’re making doesn’t cover that fart you just ripped.” Just like Ernest years before, he laughed and returned to his desk. He didn’t wink or anything but just played along.

Both times I was so relieved. How could I ever live it down if I farted in class? I would be mortified, and it would probably be recorded and inevitably go viral. I’d have to become a recluse who never left the house and taught online.

So, I was pretty proud that I had made it 21 years without getting caught and embarrassing myself. Through numerous stomach bugs and just downright bad choices (why do I eat so much cabbage and beans anyway?), I had never let one noticeably slip in front of a class full of teens–until today.

Though I’m known for my chill yet supportive attitude, I was having a rough morning and probably taking it out on my kids a bit.

“Miss, you’re acting like Mrs. Harden does every day,” one student complained. Mrs. Harden was a math teacher known for being rude and abrupt.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I explained, “But it’s just one of those days when nothing seems to be going right and everything is piling up and overwhelming me.”

“What can we do to help?” another student asked.

“That’s sweet, but nothing,” I replied. “I’ve gotten behind on everything and don’t know where to begin.”

“That’s how I live my life, Miss,” the first student laughed.

“Have you made a list?” someone asked.

“No,” I admitted.

“Let’s start there,” she suggested. The next thing I knew, my class had helped me prioritize and organize the things I had put off and had been avoiding. There were in fact things they could do to help. They proofread first drafts and alphabetized them. They had AI write a form letter for the reference letters I needed to write. Then even cleaned and tidied the room in a way that made much more organizational sense than anything I had ever tried.

That’s when it happened. I had grown teary-eyed by the end of class due to their kindness.

Before the bell rang, I wanted to share with them a heartfelt thanks. I stood up front and asked for their attention and as soon as the room was quiet, I farted. I wanted to cry for real now.

They laughed. They all laughed,

“I bet you finally feel better, Miss,” that first student joked. I did. The worst thing I thought could happen happened. And it just wasn’t a big deal.