1: ...and The Board Heard About It, and That Wasn't Good

Disclaimer: Were I J.K. Rowling, I would make sure the little buggers knew where babies came from; that way, they could continue reproducing characters, about which I could continue writing books...thus making about twenty ruddy fortunes a year...well into infinity. Hey, I've got kids to put through school! You'd better believe I'm mercenary on their behalf!

Please see the WARNING! at the beginning of the Prologue. I'd hate for anyone to loose a monitor on account of this story.

Chapter Title: 1:...and The Board Heard About It, and That Wasn't Good

Someone had been very busy during that first Voldemort-free Yule...and it wasn't Father Christmas.

Happy belated Christmas, Albus.

Albus Dumbledore reflected that it was always the same with the Board of Governors and the Ministry of Magic...how short their memories, how long their penchant for interference. Did certain luminaries perchance resent having said all those lovely things about him at the 'funeral'? It wasn't as if anyone had actually trusted the sincerity of a crowd of politicians and would think to hold them to any of it. But the speed with which they resumed the Cold War must constitute a record even for them; troublesome Tom had only been fertilizer for six months and they were already back to their usual level of interfering ingratitude.

Dumbledore read the letter carefully. Three times. The mandate would be impossible order to ignore, and very difficult to get around. Since the Governors hadn't changed recently, perhaps there had been an infusion of operable gray matter at the Ministry. Evidence of intelligent life at the Ministry was almost unprecedented, and under different circumstances, it would have been a highly welcome turn of events. As things stood, it bit Bubotubers.

Then he looked over the materials that came with it, and his expression grew increasingly grave. True, he had been contemplating instituting something of this nature for the past three decades. (The whole Squid thing had rather exploded in the seventies. What was it with Slytherins?) But to force an entire set of lessons in it out of the blue would be rather a shock to the system. Certainly, there had been a good bit of post-War exuberance last term, but was that sufficient to have brought all of this on? They had placed a time limit on the ultimatum, for Merlin's sake!

The most curious part of all was the complex spell randomly assigning teachers to the proposed classes. There were much simpler methods for making a random choice. Very, very, curious...

Although it was plain there was nothing untoward about it, Albus resolved to dust off his old Arithmancy Rules sometime during the next few days.

As was his custom in serious situations, he carefully contemplated his resources, options, and the possible ramifications of a variety of potential actions. Then, he considered the fact that he was tired, old, planning retirement, not feeling especially wily at the moment...and strangest of all, that the Board, rather like the broken clock that manages to be right twice a day, actually seemed to have a bit of a point this time. It all led to one inescapable conclusion.

"What was that Muggle expression again? Ah yes... the excrement has struck the oscillating ventilation device." Albus sighed as he crossed to the Floo to send memos for an emergency staff meeting. "At this point, I think I will settle for ensuring that it is fairly distributed."

Snape had tried to arrive at the meeting first so as to snag the plum wingback in the corner. Naturally, his luck being what it was, he succeeded in opening the door just in time to see Binns materialize there. It wasn't as if the ghost needed the seat where no one could be quite certain if you were paying attention or not; everyone knew full well that Binns had fallen asleep in every Staff Meeting for the past century. To compound his annoyance, Sprout bustled in and cheerfully co-opted the second best chair. It was going to be one of those weeks.

Pomona noted Severus' expression as he returned her greeting distractedly. It appeared that the Snape forecast remained unchanged: partly cloudy with a chance of passing thunderstorms.

Flitwick and McGonagall arrived hard on her heels, and the four Heads of House were deep in speculation on the possible reason for the meeting as the rest of the staff filed in. Snape's personal rain cloud aside, the atmosphere in the Hogwarts Staff Room was mildly inquisitive. The only apparent cause for concern was that no one had thought to secure the wonky-legged chair before Professor Quill absentmindedly sat in it. She tended to devote half her brain to the meeting and the other half to her latest translation project. This left no portion of her awareness free to realize she was rocking the offending piece of furniture and driving everyone else barking with resulting rhythmic creak-bump.

Secure in the knowledge that the Serpentine Git was eternally contemplating his navel in Hades, the professors assumed that a little onomatopoeia constituted the direst annoyance on the agenda. Plainly, either none of them had heard (or if they had, they'd forgotten) the old expression about what happens when one assumes.

As always, Dumbledore breezed in exactly two and a quarter minutes after the last professor to arrive. The staff knew this number in no uncertain terms. Professor Foote, whose enthusiasm for things Muggle made his job teaching Muggle Studies a joy (and made Arthur Weasley's fascination look like a passing fancy by comparison), always timed it with a Muggle stopwatch. Everything was nice and normal so far.

The pile of documents in Albus' hands failed to raise concerns, and his pleasant greeting suggested nothing untoward. But every set of shoulders in the room tensed as he sat down and made a steeple of his fingers, studying them briefly before looking up again. The Headmaster may have appeared relentlessly cheerful to the casual observer, but he never revealed anything by his body language unless he wanted to. Any sign of hesitation on his part before speaking was fair warning to brace oneself.

"Yesterday afternoon, I received a missive from the Board of Governors, backed by the authority of the Ministry of Magic."

Terrifying visions of Umbridge danced luridly in the assembled well-read heads.

"It appears that word of the above average number of incidents involving loving couples discovered in indicting positions over the past term has reached their parents...who have elected to display somewhat above average displeasure at it. Upon hearing their complaints, the Board of Governors and the Ministry issued a joint decree that we must take specific academic measures to curtail such activities and reduce the likelihood of their recurrence," Albus began.

"Forgive me, Albus...I must have heard you incorrectly. You did say we are to take academic measures? Not disciplinary ones?" Filius asked.

"You heard correctly. These books and other documents are the curriculum for a new one-week course educating students on human anatomy, the reproductive cycle, childbirth, and related issues."

He allowed a moment for that to sink in.

Madam Pomfrey reflected that she ought to have realized something was amiss when her presence at the meeting was very specifically demanded.

Reliable as the hour of sunrise, Minerva led the counteroffensive. "If parents are so worried about it, why don't they set down and explain where wee'uns come from...and why niches behind suits of armor aren't the place to be starting them?"

"That," Albus responded wearily, "is probably the sole question not addressed in either the decree or the highly detailed texts for the course. The mandate is quite specific on everything else...when the course is to start, how long it is to last, what information is imparted to students of each year, how that information must be conveyed...there are even instructions on how to assign teachers to each class."

Disbelief was giving way to concern. It appeared that Albus, uncharacteristically out of fight, might actually oblige them to do this unthinkable thing.

"Since the subject has never been taught here, materials have been adapted from Reproductive Health classes taught in Muggle schools, modifying the texts and lesson plans to include more accurate images and information peculiar to our society. You are allotted one week from receipt of your assignment...today...to review everything and note any omissions. It will be up to you to supply the correct information should you detect such discrepancies. Classes will start the following week; I presume they want it all instilled in the students before Valentine's Day."

"Albus, the full moon is next week," Remus interposed. For the first time in his life, there appeared to be a slight silver lining to his affliction.

"Yes, I'm aware of that. Under the circumstances you will be partially excused from this particular duty. Once you are able, you can step in to assist whoever is assigned the first and second year boys, and help teach any necessary makeup lessons to prevent the N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. students from falling behind."

"Of course," Remus positively beamed at his employer. This was the best news he'd had since Tonks said 'yes' over the holiday.

Up until that moment, nearly everyone at Hogwarts had been quite happy that Lupin's war hero status had translated into a bye from the Ministry, allowing him to return to his former job at the school. Now, a fair number of those people felt the fleeting urge to walk up to the mild mannered professor and say, 'Bite me.'

Albus hurried on before the stewing could set in, in earnest. "First and second year students will have a basic anatomy and hygiene class. Third and fourth years will be taught 'Reproductive Health,' which includes the anatomical material plus pregnancy and birth.

"Fifth years and above will have all of those lessons plus in depth information on contraception and sexually transmitted diseases. That particular set of lessons takes the full week. A scheduling spell has been provided to ensure that all students can fit in the full curriculum with a minimum of disruption to their normal course of study."

Every professor's face was seized with its own particular mien of outrage. Even Professor Quill sighed briefly into the page of hieroglyphs she was translating before sinking back into the happy oblivion of the papyrus. (The staff had a betting pool going as to whether or not she would retire before becoming the next teaching ghost of Hogwarts.)

Speaking of whom, only Binns was unperturbed...chiefly because he was, as typical during staff meetings, unconscious.

Albus decided to forge ahead with additional delicate details. "While the less demanding schedule and the differing information for first through fourth years will allow these classes to be divided into male and female groups, the time constraints and identical lessons for the older students necessitate coeducational classes."

It took a moment, but the Knut dropped. Sinistra finally found her voice. "Surely we aren't going to have the older girls and boys together for these lessons?" she managed to strangle out.

"Well, they're sure to be together, if and when they try to put them in to practice," Flitwick remarked in an overly-innocuous tone of voice.

"Filius!" McGonagall yelped, both amused and scandalized.

Snape was obliged to apply 'Scourgify' and several apologies for spraying Flitwick with coffee. Although in a perfect world, he would have been automatically blameless on account of the fact that the coffee would never have come flying out his nose were it not for the little man's remark.

"I'm afraid the requirements must be followed to the letter," Albus said apologetically.

"Who is going to teach which level?" Quill asked resignedly. She'd come to the end of her scroll, and there was nothing for it...she'd have to contribute to the meeting.

Twelve pairs of eyes darted about the room shiftily...excluding Lupin, who felt pretty safe in the knowledge he'd only have to deal with first years...and Binns, well, he was always dead to the world, but now he wasn't paying attention, besides. Evidently one more topic upon which the professors were in accord was their desire to foist the fifth years and up on someone else.

"This, too, is subject to a non-negotiable procedure. A Scheduling Spell assigns teachers to each group. The final results will operate like a Wizarding contract. No trading will be allowed, under threat of some rather unpleasant penalties."

"Let Filch teach it. That should put the little cretins off sexual activity for at least a year, if we're lucky," Severus muttered...getting some of his own back by catching Filius in a spit-take.

"Now, Severus, the purpose of this course is to allow our students to see to their reproductive health and to make prudent decisions regarding their sexual lives...not to frighten the life out of them," Dumbledore admonished gently but unyieldingly.

Snape personally felt that the latter would make the former much easier, but he had long since given up trying to evangelize the rest of the staff as to that particular epiphany.

Before the words that were straining at various sets of frowning lips could burst forth, Albus briskly wrapped up his remarks. "I want no one here under any illusions about this meeting. This is not a discussion; you are here to receive your assignments. Participation in this venture is non-negotiable. Think of it this way: it will be over in a week, and by next year...when whatever furor sparked this initiative dies down...we will have devised a better way to do this."

Or found new jobs, ran the thought through several people's minds.

Without further ado, Dumbledore withdrew several sets of documents from the stack and placed them together. The Scheduling Spell incantation was performed, and there was suddenly a class sheet for each teacher.

"That was an interesting spell, Albus," Minerva remarked as she took her sheet. "Seventh years, of course," she sighed.

Charlie Weasley, Hagrid's replacement (since the half-giant had left to do things everyone preferred not to contemplate with Madame Maxime), let out an undignified whoop of relief. "First years! Oh, um, sorry," he added, trying his utmost to sound contrite. It wasn't working very well; with every fiber of his being, he was rejoicing that he'd not have to do much more than explain a lot of mildly detailed diagrams to a lot of embarrassed boys who were unlikely to ask any questions. Though his enthusiasm was tempered by the discovery that Trelawney would be responsible for introducing the subject to first year girls, and wished to discuss it with him over tea.

Filius sighed. "Third years; it'll be a wonder if I can get them to stop giggling long enough to listen."

Snape gave an undignified squawk of dismay. "Albus, I can't show this drawing to a lot of seventh year boys and...and girls!"

"Oh, my. That is... detailed," Remus said, leaning over to study the offending illustration...a wizarding illustration, no less. Snape's glacial glare reminded Lupin that calling attention to himself was, under the circumstances, simply not the thing.

Albus cleared his throat significantly. "You will teach this course based upon the prepared materials. They are quite thorough. After all, you wouldn't wish to have to supplement with your... personal experiences." He reflected that, despite the varied backgrounds of the professors and the varied reasons they would prefer not to bring personal experience into the matter, their reactions to that remark were amazingly similar. Rigid posture, wide-eyed stares of terror...if he didn't know better, he'd swear there was a Basilisk peeking over his shoulder. Even Binns coughed in his phantasmic slumber, giving a little shudder as if something had walked on his grave.

Poppy looked at the books for the third and fourth years thoughtfully. "I've always contemplated pressing the Board for leave to instruct the young ladies in the basics of dealing with menstruation. It never fails...at least a handful of times a year, I get some poor dear running to the infirmary in a panic because she has no idea why she's suddenly bleeding to death."

"Yes, and the ones who don't go to you come to one of us," Minerva allowed reluctantly, her vague gesture encompassing all of the female professors.

"I suppose it might be a good thing to be certain all the students are conversant in Contraceptive and Prophylactic Charms. Every now and again, some lad comes back from the holidays with ah... a souvenir he hadn't intended upon," Filius sighed. "And of course, there have been the odd wandpoint weddings over the centuries."

Hooch let out a howl of hilarity when she came to some of the animated illustrations. "Now, here's a bunch of fellows with over-inflated opinions of themselves!"

Quill adjusted her spectacles and peered over Hooch's shoulder. "Oh, lovely! They have the wizarding version of the Turin Papyrus for the topic of 'positions for intercourse.' I wonder if it includes the section with the controversial writing suggesting Animagus sex?" she chirped pleasantly. Wrapped up entirely in her love of ancient writings, she began translating the shocking little notes in hieratic script with an earnestness that entertained Sinistra and Hooch no end. Only S. Clara Quill could look at that document and honestly say she was studying it for the inscriptions.

Septima's eyes had been growing steadily larger since the assignments were announced. Wasn't anyone going to object more effectively? They all sounded as if they were quite resigned to this intolerable state of affairs! She would speak up herself, being a competent teacher and, much like the rest of them, a war hero... if only she could bring herself to use the word 'sex.'

"From where I'm standing, it looks like the one subject in which the entire student body of Hogwarts feels highly motivated to take on in depth, independent study. Burning valuable classroom time on it is akin to teaching the little monsters how to eat their lunch," Snape remarked dryly...though he reflected that this might not be all bad if it meant never again having to brew the counteragent to the Sybaritus Virus. He filed away Quill's comments for such a time as he could study the materials in the privacy of his office. He wasn't going to be caught dead ogling the Turin Papyrus in the Staff Room.

"Have you ever watched some of those kids eating lunch? It's enough to put me off mine," Sinistra retorted.

If neither Snape nor McGonagall was going to pitch a fit, the die was cast. I'm doomed, Vector though dully.

Binns yawned, blinked, and gazed around the room. "We have to teach them to eat?" he asked in sleepy disbelief.

"No, Cuthbert. But we are supposed to be teaching them about sex," Pomona explained, with patient amusement.

"Oh. Good. If it had come to teaching basic table manners here, I'm afraid I'd be obliged to retire," he replied seriously, and drifted back into whatever passes for sleep in a ghost.

Septima Vector, who had held up heroically to that point, finally gave up the ghost and fainted upon seeing that she would be teaching sixth years.

By Wednesday afternoon, the student texts had arrived at the school, and any hopes the professors had of a last-minute reprieve were dashed. Dumbledore announced the plans for the classes at dinner that night.

"Another bloody book," Ron muttered, shoving the text in his bag without so much as glancing at it on the way back to the tower.

Ginny snorted. "And he wonders why Hermione gave him his walking papers," she giggled into Harry's ear.

"Not much he doesn't, lately," Harry replied, glancing significantly at Hannah Abbot, who blew Ron a kiss before hurrying off with the rest of the Hufflepuffs.

"How'd I miss that?" Ginny asked in astonishment.

"I think you were otherwise occupied." Hermione's wry tone and pointed look at Harry would have made him blush at the implications, once upon a time; now, with Ginny on his arm and Voldemort's ashes (figuratively) under his feet, his radiant confidence didn't leave room for false modesty. He quirked a grin at her and pulled his lady love a little closer.

"She told him she was interested in a big family," Harry stage-whispered to Ginny.

Hermione decided to ignore the world in favor of reading and walking. Did those two really think they were fooling anyone? It was pretty obvious that all that whispering was just an excuse to stick their tongues in each other's ears. Some days, she felt she was the only person in the school not reverting back three years in maturity in commemoration of Voldemort's demise. An uncharitable observer would have dismissed this attitude as sour grapes. After all, it wasn't as if she'd been swamped with romantic overtures, heroic status notwithstanding. She preferred to think that she simply had more lofty priorities.

Speaking of lofty academic priorities, what was this 'Reproductive Health' book, anyway?

After the first three pages, her walking slowed. She paged ahead through the book and stopped dead in the corridor. We're going to have classes about sex? she thought, amazed, confused, and embarrassedly curious.

And also, evidently, completely oblivious to her surroundings...as she discovered when she was nearly bowled over while staring at an amazingly detailed anatomical drawing.

"Watch where..." she started to snap, then found herself staring up at a wall of black robes.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, for making a roadblock of yourself!" Professor Snape snarled, then quickly spun away and rushed off down the hall. He stuffed his Teacher's Manual into his robes and tried to control the warming of his face. Snape hoped she hadn't noticed the page he'd been studying to the detriment of watching where he was going. Why must the authors spring such illustrations on a reader like that?

Hermione never even had time to begin offering an apology, though on reflection, there was no excuse for him running into her while she was at full stop. She decided it was just as well; she might have felt odd apologizing to Snape immediately after studying a wizarding diagram of a penis attaining the state of erection. She snuck another quick look at the cutaway diagram, amazed at how the artist had animated a convincing illusion of blood flow. Fascinating, how simple an organ it appeared to be in the drawing of external anatomy, compared to the internal workings. Perhaps sex was a worthy topic of academic endeavor after all. In that case, she'd better start researching.

Speaking of blood flow... It would be logical to suppose the odd color that came over the professor's face was due to anger...either at himself for carelessness, or at her for simply being there.

So why did she have the overwhelming feeling he'd been... blushing?

Snape reflected that the approaching five-day span might qualify as the worst work-week of his entire life. Considering some of the previous contenders for the title, that was saying quite a lot.

Just looking over the material for the class brought back his first-day-of-teaching nervous stomach. Not that there was anything there he hadn't read about before; after all, he was the one Madam Pince had called on to better secure access to the more risqué books on sexual magic in the Restricted Section. He had secured them quite thoroughly, all right. No student was going to come across them, now that they were safely tucked away in his private quarters. The amazing bibliographies of those books contributed to the expansion of his collection.

No, he could teach the class without coming close to exhausting his knowledge of theory with regards to the subject. His worry certainly had to do with conveying it to a plague of giggling students. Contrary to popular belief, Snape was not opposed to laughter, merriment, or frivolity on general principle; it was simply that, when they took place anywhere within roughly twenty feet of him, he couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling that they were somehow at his expense. And he'd bet good Galleons that even his reputation wasn't fearsome enough to prevent giggling in a room full of hormonal teenagers hearing the word 'orgasm.' Perhaps he'd forgo his habit of pointedly asking questions of obviously inattentive students as well. After all, he wasn't any more eager to hear them reference the vulva than they were to hear him mention it.

Severus' face flushed fleetingly at the thought, but he stifled his qualms and hardened his expression into one of practiced superiority. He would plow through this class behind an implacable shield of cool contempt, and woe to anyone who dared ask him to elaborate on the topic! Bloody little pests weren't going to get anywhere near his personal life, not unless they wanted to experience every legal form of punishment he could utilize for the rest of the term. He relaxed perceptibly at the thought. No, there'd be no giggling on his watch. Who would dare ask He-who-was-seriously-irked-at-being-stuck-teaching-Potions-again detailed questions about sex, of all things?

Then, he made the mistake of scanning the list of students assigned to him.

The Ravenclaws on the list were all straightforward fact sponges who would soak in the information without comment. The contingent of Hufflepuffs would be no problem. His Slytherins knew better than to give him any grief, and as for the Gryffindors...no Longbottom, good; ugh, Weasley, but it's not as if he'd pay attention, anyhow; yes! No Prat-who-lived-to-kill-off-the-Bigger-Prat, but...

Snape swore aloud. So much for being certain the class would be intimidated into blissful silence.

Hermione decided that a busy corridor was probably not the ideal spot to study her new subject, so she hurried to her Head Girl's room and read the book through. It seemed to be a decent overview, but she had a distinct impression it was possible to go into greater depth on the subject. So, she did what any girl would do in her situation...went straight to Harry. She needed to borrow Hedwig.

As happy as she was making the Wizarding world her home, it was relatively narrow slice of reality. Hermione had no intention of losing track of the rest of the world. To that end, she not only took time to read Muggle newspapers (for what they were worth), but also belonged to a service that provided an extensive catalog of Muggle books, which could be purchased by owl-order. Hmm. Where would they be in the catalog? The Biology section seemed contain little pertaining to sex. Puzzlingly, 'Self-help' had more of a selection. What sort of sex book would be in that section? she wondered.

Amazing. There was actually a sex section in the catalog, and she eagerly checked off several titles. Then, for good measure, she ordered one or two more from the section labeled 'Erotica,' though that didn't sound very technical.

There was one title in particular that the publisher's note said was highly recommended. She wasn't going to be caught dead ordering something called 'Sex for Dummies,' though.

A few resources on magical sex were in order as well, since some practices and STDs were exclusive to the Wizarding world. Oddly, the primary titles referenced in the bibliography of her textbook were missing from the Restricted Section. Somehow, she didn't feel quite up to asking Madam Pince to help her find them, especially since Professor McGonagall had given her leave to access the collection based on an expressed desire to read up on Animagus training; but that didn't stop her from having a good, long, browse while she was at it, so it wasn't a total loss. The Eclectic Bindery in Hogsmeade didn't carry anything quite as advanced, but they did allow her to Floo-order a couple of basic volumes without too many odd looks.

The books arrived just in time for the weekend. Hermione had caught up on all of her studies in anticipation of their arrival. (For those not conversant in the laws of Hermione Land, she was happily a month ahead of the syllabus.) Now she was free to lock herself in all weekend to absorb as much knowledge as humanly possible.

By Monday, she was certain she knew nearly everything there was to know about sex. At least, she was pretty sure her theoretical grounding in the subject was quite sound, and the applied portion seemed much more straightforward than flying a broom. It was almost a shame the course didn't have a practical component.

Vector hadn't been nervous her first day of teaching.

She knew Arithmancy backwards and forwards (and in four planes of existence). When she taught it, all she had to do was let her love of the numbers pour out. Explaining it was simply an added joy, allowing her to share the beauty of the subject with those who lived in the sad ignorance that was Life Before Arithmancy. But this...this was a Thestral of another color.

She just couldn't bring herself to see the beauty in a lot of messy bodily fluids being exchanged, nor in the awkward body parts involved in the process. It was with a defeated expression that she began studying the diagrams she would have to explain, willing herself to use the peculiar and dirty-sounding words that described them. It might be wise to assign seating for the class as well. Having the boys near the front where she could see them would be disastrous. The only good news was that she'd been given a fairly large batch of Ravenclaws. Septima would range the young ladies of her former house along the front row, Miss Lovegood front and center. It would help to have someone there whose wide eyes and slightly odd stare wouldn't be attributable to the material, nor to her shortcomings conveying it.

Feeling nauseous, she decided to visit Poppy for something to settle her stomach. Maybe she could talk the nurse out of a Calming Draught for Monday as well. She just couldn't think of any other way to get through having to see that p-penis diagram become erect again.

Author's Notes:

The incomparable LariLee suggested that Voldemort was now fertilizer rather than mulch...although not without first pointing out the potential for a water retention/PMS/Tom Riddle joke. I hope you all realize how hard I worked to resist that temptation, once it was suggested to me.

The Turin Papyrus: a satirical and rather lurid document from the New Kingdom (Ancient Egypt) depicting a bunch of raggedy old men with huge penises, attempting intercourse with lithesome young women in a variety of positions, ranging from the somewhat plausible to the highly unlikely. It also depicts a woman apparently masturbating on an upended piece of pottery while applying makeup, and a series of animal vignettes, including one of a cat attempting to have sex with a goose. Interesting folks, the Ancient Egyptians...

For all those people who are aghast that the sexes are taught together in the advanced classes, this is not merely literary license on my part. It was done that way when I attended a Catholic High School. From age 14 onwards, we had a refresher course of some sort every year, boys and girls in the same room, often asking most pointed questions. The decision to give first and second years a rudimentary introduction to the subject is also based on my actual experiences. The first time I was subjected to the basic 'talk,' was in public school...when I was 9. It was the awful, vague speech about menstruation and the fact that somehow, those sorry little line diagrams (with which one could never hope to identify real human reproductive organs) would get together and form a baby under the correct circumstances. The boys and the girls were separated, and the school nurse was stuck teaching it all. The teachers wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. Nor even an eleven-foot pole.

Up next: Torment begins in earnest!