M’s English class is reading The Catcher in the Rye, and they were recently discussing some scene that discussed procreation. They were handling it about as awkwardly as you might expect from a bunch of 9th graders, until the teacher — in an aggravated effort to get them past immature giggles and weirdness — bluntly stated that procreation is natural and everyone is born from a man and a woman having sex.
M did not seem bothered or feel excluded by the teacher’s statement. She was clearly saying it as an exasperated effort to combat awkward goofiness in class, rather than trying to proscribe how society should work. But it somehow led (outside of class) to M trying to explain to a classmate that he had a sperm donor for a father. Now, when M feels uncomfortable with a conversation, he tends to get this weird grin on his face, the sort that would indicate to 99% of the population that he’s lying. When the classmate didn’t believe him, M recruited his best friend to help. Unfortunately, his best friend’s vehement grinning insistence that M was telling the truth only served to convince the classmate even further that M was making up the whole thing.
Oh well. At least, as M said, most of his other friends have reacted sanely to the info and believed him. Evidently there had been some Scout trip on which he’d told his friends about having a sperm donor for a father, and another kid shared that his father had come from an orphanage. Who knew that boys would sit around discussing this sort of thing in their tents at night? I thought they were too busy telling fart jokes and arguing over whose dirty feet were in someone else’s face.
As for the English teacher, E and I will go to a meet the teachers night soon, and I wonder if the teacher will recall her class discussion if/when we cheerfully introduce ourselves as M’s parents.