(Sorry for the premature posting of just the title....I got a little ahead of myself and hit publish too soon)
Over the course of the day, I have just about every member of the varsity baseball team in my class. Sixth period I have a few of them together. Once they figured that I have a deep and abiding love for the great American pastime, they found an ally, a confidant, a BFF. While I do think it is good for teenagers to have an adult that they feel comfortable talking to, I'm not particularly comfortable with a throng of teenage boys following me around, pestering me about the silly, the not-so-silly, and sometimes the inappropriate nonsense du jour. I'm all about avoiding even the mere appearance of impropriety. Call me paranoid if you will, but I watch the news. It's ALWAYS the English teacher. *Ick, cringe, shiver.*
During the passing period the Mighty Casey came in with his bat and all the rest of his baseball gear but looking more than a little frazzled and certainly wildly uncomfortable. He came over to me and leaned in to whisper, "Ms King! My chest was sore....so I put some Icy-Hot on it....and now my nipples are ON FIRE! What should I do?" I did my best, but I just could not manage to convince my face to join in the cover up that I was hysterically laughing on the inside. It was sad, really. It wasn't just the regular Icy-Hot, it was some super strength, made in Mexico, make you want to die regardless of where you put it, kind of Icy-Hot. Poor kid.
Luckily- my internal censor was up and functioning at that time and I realized that "I think you've just got to keep rubbing it," was only going to solicit a round of giggles and 'That's what she said" jokes. Regardless of the fact that rubbing is the only way to get Icy-Hot to stop burning, I decided to go with a less suggestive course of action and settled on, "I don't know what to tell you, buddy. Good luck with that," and sent him to his seat.
I heard him confiding in one of his team/classmates about his nipple predicament. Funny as it was, but to add insult to injury, the kid he was talking to is the complete and total embodiment of Eddie Haskell. With a knowing grin I heard Eddie tell him, "Oh no man- you've gotta blow on it." It was clear from his face, and the look I shot him, that we both knew how this was going to end. In case you are an Icy-Hot virgin, second to adding water to it, the WORST thing you can do is blow on it. That makes it burn with the intensity of a thousand fiery suns. But- because I didn't want to be any more involved in the Case of the Slippery Nipple, I sat back and let the mighty Casey learn this lesson the hard way.
The next thing I saw was Casey holding out the collar of his shirt and Eddie blowing on his nipple like it was the last birthday candle on the planet. Needless to say, Casey didn't let this little love fest continue for too long. And needless to say, not much by way of book learning happened that period, but sometimes life's most important lessons don't come from books.