The story below is written as a fiction. An imagined story presented as though it were about actual people in real-life situations. The story is told by a narrator who may be a character in the story or someone who is not part of the events or the plot. I do base them on people I have talked to or events I have noticed.The following story is written as a fiction.
Third grade was just like any other year before it. School nights were filled with doing homework and weekends were filled with sporting events. One incident that made third grade different than any other year is that it was the first time that a girl had really gotten me into any trouble and made it so a teacher wrote a note to my mother. In third grade, I became a man.
Let me tell you, there are a million reasons that a teacher would have to write a letter to a student’s parent but I pretty sure that my situation is not a regular occurrence for an eight year old. For the first time in my life sex would get me into trouble. Yes, you read that correctly, my eight year old self that had not even reached puberty yet was already getting into trouble from sex. What could a third grader possibly know about sex? That’s a good question because I did not know a thing about the subject.
It was raining that day so we had indoor recess. Indoor recess meant that we had to stay in our classrooms and either play board games or color or just sit and talk to our friends. I can remember sitting on the floor and talking to several other boys in my class. I have no idea how the subject was brought up but one of the boys started talking about sex. It most likely had something to do with what he heard from an older sibling or parent or even more probable something he heard on TV. Whatever the case may have been the boy was bragging about how he had sex. He did not go into detail because as a third grader we didn’t even know what sex really was or how to even perform the act. Since I wanted to be cool and act like I was not the sheltered child that I was I too began talking about my prepubescent sexual encounters.
There was a boy in my class named Kevin. Kevin and I were good friends and I would often go to Kevin's house to ride bikes after school. There was one particular afternoon when Kevin's cousin was over. She was the same age as us and to make a long story short, we were playing Baywatch. Kevin's cousin, Samantha, was drowning and I was the lifeguard that was going to save her. Keep in mind that I was in third grade and had no idea what I was doing but needless to say that day was technically the day I got my first kiss. However, I do not count that as my first kiss because of course, I was in third grade and had no clue what I was doing.
This all happened a few weeks before the conversation I had with the boys at school. If you asked any of my classmates what happened that day, I had sex with Kevin’s cousin. Not literally of course but at the time all that I knew about the topic was that it was just a boy and a girl kissing and hugging and for some reason boys and girls liked to use their tongues while they kiss. I didn’t get it.
During our indoor recess on that rainy day, after the one boy had finished telling us about his sexual encounter that had no real details, I couldn’t help but tell my story. Of course I went into great details about tongue kissing and laying on the floor and made it sound like it was much more than it really was. Can you blame me? For a brief five minutes I was the man. I had sex with a girl! Whatever that meant. Unfortunately, I was not paying attention to our teacher that was sitting at her desk ten feet away and listening to every word we said.
Before recess was over, my teacher called myself and the other boy over to her desk to discuss what we had been talking about. She didn’t make it seem like we were in trouble but rather just asked us what we knew about the topic. I played dumb because, well, I was. I didn’t know anything about intercourse. After that discussion she sent us back to our seats and began the afternoon lesson.
When the day was over and my mother had come to pick me up from school, she came into the classroom and I was told to wait in the hallway. I must have forgotten the whole conversation I had with my teacher a few hours prior. My mother walked out of that classroom with a very disappointed look on her face. She told me to go over to read what was on a yellow piece of notepad paper she had in her hand. On the piece of paper was a note from my teacher explaining to my mother that I had a conversation with one of the other boys during recess. The note was not long and went something like this:
Today at recess I overheard Patrick and one of the other boys talking about SEX.
Are you telling me it is not normal for eight year old to talk about this subject? Are me and my mom about to have "the talk"? The worst part about it was that my mother then also asked me what I knew about sex. My response was that it was girl stuff. What more could I say? The only other time I had ever heard the word sex other than on TV was overhearing my older sister talk about it on the phone to her friends. My mother didn’t really have a response other than a partially concerned look on her face and that was the end of the conversation. Oh, to have the innocence of a third grade child. At least I did not get caught tongue-kissing Kevin's cousin.
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