I have an issue with a certain set of students at Newmentia. We call them the Sex Club. Unofficially, of course. Behind their backs. Though they would probably relish the title. They remind me of the kids a few years ago who had an secret club in which they kept a tally of their conquests. A contest, if you will, but different from THE CONTEST of Seinfeld fame, the difference being that the student contest was not a solo exercise, and not an exercise of abstinence. Quite the opposite, on both counts.
Anyhoo, the Sex Club is composed of girls of ninth grade age, which is just totally inappropriate and icky in the mind of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. The majority of the Club is together in one class. Mrs. HM hears things she does not want lolling about in her brain, hears them while she is at her desk minding her own darn business. That's the thing with the Sex Club. It appears to be all about letting people know they have a Sex Club.
Mrs. HM gave them a stern lecture upon overhearing one tell another that "Missionary is against the law if the girl is not over 18." And another club member said, "Well, that's fine. It's my least favorite position." EEEWWWW! These are 14-year-old girls. Yucky poo. Not only do they talk, they also flaunt. They are the ones we have to admonish to zip up your hoodie, nobody needs to see your bidness all hangin' out like that. They push the limits.
Today in the cafeteria, LunchBuddy and HerBuddy sat down at the Sex Club table. We are always kidding HerBuddy that the ringleader is her daughter, because HerBuddy has only sons, and we think she needs the full motherhood experience. The Sex Club was a bit subdued. Instead of talking about positions, or the ringleader relating her hall walk yesterday with a condom in her mouth, they sat with hands folded. "So how was your day?" Nice conversation, suitable for high tea with watercress sandwiches. It didn't last long. One by one, as they took back their trays, the Sex Clubbers plopped down at a different table. Until only LunchBuddy and HerBuddy were left. So they rejoined the rest of us at the faculty table.
There's more than one way to skin the Sex Club.