So today, a young lady in the back of my room had a full volume discussion with her friend about the anxiety surrounding the results of her most recent pap smear.
You're wondering? She's fifteen.
The young men at the front of the room were discreet enough to simply put their heads down to laugh (or to HIDE THEIR HEADS AND WEEP) as the young ladies speculated as to what sort of abnormalities the doctor might find.
All I could think of is that if I get a choice, I'm hoping she has syphillis because if she does, there's a chance that that last brief bout of severe genius might come at the same time as her End Of Instruction test. Seriously, because that would be some kind of writing score!