Having taught high school for twenty years or so, there have been many funny moments, but one of the funniest happened just after Christmas break this year.
I had a twelfth grade student named Donald. You know Donald. He’s a hockey jock. He wears the ever-present ball cap on top of his lovely mullet. He never has his work done, but he always has a smart answer. Despite this, he’s loveable and fun to have around.
The first day after break he appeared with his arm in a sling. He had arrived late, as usual, and when I asked him what happened, he announced to the class, “I had to have surgery on my labia.”
“Um, are you sure? ” I asked, trying my best not to burst out laughing.
“Yeah, Mrs. C., I did. I tore my labia playing hockey.”
I’m not sure who was suppressing the laughter more, me or the two girls beside me. “Donald, honey,” I said. “Unless there’s something you’ve been hiding from us, I don’t think you tore your labia.”
He looked at me like I’m crazy, and I told him to get out his phone, and look up labia. He did. He snorted with glee and exclaimed, “Right again, Mrs. C!” As he swaggered back to his desk, many of the boys were also looking up the term, while the girls collapsed in a fit of giggles.
In the end, we found out that Donald had torn his labrum, and the whole class had gotten an anatomy lesson in English class.