Abstinence
I was holding a notice from my 13-year-old son's school announcing a meeting
to preview the new course in sexuality. Parents could examine the curriculum
and take part in an actual lesson presented exactly as it would be given to
the students.
When I arrived at the school, I was surprised to discover only about a dozen
parents there. As we waited for the presentation, I thumbed through page
after page of instructions in the prevention of pregnancy or disease. I
found abstinence mentioned only in passing.
When the teacher arrived with the school nurse, she asked if there were any
questions. I asked why abstinence did not play a noticeable part in the
material. What happened next was shocking. There was a great deal of
laughter, and someone suggested that if I thought abstinence had any merit,
I should go back to burying my head in the sand. The teacher and the nurse
said nothing as I drowned in a sea of embarrassment. My mind had gone blank,
and I could think of nothing to say. The teacher explained to me that the
job of the school was to teach "facts" and the home was responsible for
moral training. I sat in silence for the next 20 minutes as the course was
explained. The other parents seemed to give their unqualified support to the
materials.
"Donuts at the back," announced the teacher during the break. "I'd like you
to put on the name tags we have prepared, they're right by the donuts, and mingle with the other parents."
Everyone moved to the back of the room. As I watched them affixing their
name tags and shaking hands, I sat deep in thought. I was ashamed that I had
not been able to convince them to include a serious discussion of abstinence
in the materials. I uttered a silent prayer for guidance. My thoughts were
interrupted by the teacher's hand on my shoulder. "Won't you join the
others, Mr. Layton?"
Then I heard a still, small voice whisper, "Don't go."
When the class was called back to order, the teacher looked around the long
table and thanked everyone for putting on name tags. She ignored me. Then
she said, "Now we're going to give you the same lesson we'll be giving your
children. Everyone please peel off your name tags."
I watched in silence as the tags came off. "Now, then, on the back of one of
the tags, I drew a tiny flower. Who has it, please?" The gentleman across
from me held it up.
It was then that I heard the still, small voice again. "Speak now," it said,
"but be humble."
I noted wryly the latter admonition, then rose from my chair. I apologized
for any upset I might have caused
earlier, congradulated the teacher on an excellent lesson that would impress
the youth, and concluded by saying I had only one small point I wished to
make.
"Not all of us were infected," I said. "One of us..... abstained !!!!!."
(By Robert Layton)
The nurse smiled sweetly at me. "The donuts are good."
"Thank you, no," I replied.
"Well, then, how about a name tag? I'm sure the others would like to meet
you."
"Somehow I doubt that," I replied.
"Won't you please join them?" she coaxed.
The instruction was unmistakable. "Don't go!"
"I'll just wait here," I said.
"Here it is!"
"All right," she said. "The flower represents disease. Do you recall with
whom you shook hands?" He pointed to a couple of people.
"Very good," she replied. "The handshake in this case represents intimacy.
So the two people you had contact with now have the disease." There was
laughter and joking among the parents. The teacher continued.
"And whom did the two of you shake hands with?" The point was well taken,
and she explained how this lesson would show students how quickly disease is
spread.
"Since we all shook hands, we all have the disease."
This background set was made by me.
If you would like the set, please visit Bordersets by Pam.
*S*