A
Dweeb in ADP
by Rabbitt
The Teacher was standing there at the door examining each arrival to his class. Tall, thin, with rimless glasses and a stern expression, he nodded curtly to me and pointed to a backless stool in front of the class. "There is where you will sit, young man. When you get off ADP, I shall assign you a desk." The stool was so high that I could just get my rear end on it. The bar between the 4 legs was pretty high too, so that if I put my feet on it, my knees would be spread and everything -- my balls, my huge-feeling dick -- would be fully exposed. I took out my towel and laid it on the seat. "Put your feet on the bar," he said," and keep them there." I did as I was told. The kids already in class were completely silent, and the rest of the kids filed in very quietly and took seats as directed by the Teacher. I was thinking, this would be an awful place to sit for Donatina. I wondered if this was the math class she was able to miss this morning. I hoped so!
The teacher started his class. "This is your math class, boys and girls, and anyone who is not scheduled for math at this time should get up and leave. Quietly." No one moved. "I am assuming you all belong here, then. Like every teacher here, I am required by school regulations to recognize each young man or woman who is in ADP and, if possible, integrate that condition into my lessons for the period. However, unlike some other subjects, I cannot find a rationale in mathematics for talking about nakedness, especially in this first and introductory lecture. Thus you find this young man perched upon this stool to my right. Gaze upon him, if you will, and ruminate upon how you will feel in that position should you flout the rules of this school." There was a long pause, while he looked around and the kids took this in. "We shall proceed."
Thereafter followed a commentary and lecture and diatribe (yes, I have a vocabulary after some years in school) about numbers, equations, applications, even the Space Shuttle, and lots of things I couldn’t even follow. I zoned out, jerking myself awake every so often to make sure that I was not reported for inattention or something. Donatina filled my thoughts, and my hardon stayed right up there. I could tell the Teacher was losing his class, as more and more of the kids were looking at me with a twinkle in their eyes. But the Teacher was so wound up in telling us what he expected to do with us in math as soon as we got our texts that he didn’t notice. Finally, the bell rang. "You students will file out of my classroom in an orderly fashion, with no talking." Pointing to me, he said, "You shall be last."
According to orders, we filed out. Several kids were waiting for me in the hall. "Do you know where you’re going next?" I answered that I thought it was Civics, and a couple of them guided my elbows and said, "Down here. Just a little ways." It felt really nice that these guys should make sure I got where I needed to be -- I felt I was in good hands. So very, very different from all the other schools I had been in! And best of all, there wasn’t any feely-touchy going on. "That guy’s a real asshole for a Teacher," said one big guy. "I don’t know if I can handle him and math at the same time -- I had enough trouble with arithmetic in 6th grade," he laughed. I offered to help him out if he needed, math being my best subject by far. "I may have to take you up on that," he beamed.
Just a little ways down the hall was the classroom for Civics, I was told, and soon we were there. I peeled off from the group and walked through the door. There were a few kids there at desks, pretty much the same kinds of tables we had in Art Appreciation class this morning. The Teacher was standing there welcoming each of us with a smile and an expansive wave to the array of desks. She looked about 40 or so, with a matronly build and wearing a really nice gray dress. I found an unoccupied table, laid out my towel on the chair, and was soon joined by a little brunette with short hair and bangs. Kind of cute, I thought, but not like my Donatina. She did not meet my eye, looking kind of embarrassed, I thought. The class settled in.
"Good afternoon, boys and girls. As you well know, we don’t have our texts yet, so I am going to help you set the stage for the kinds of things we will be learning this year in Civics. You’ll find I believe in group participation rather than lectures and book recitation, and that I use group discussion to draw out the lessons we need to take home with each and every one of us. Some of you may know that Civics used to be called Social Studies, in which we looked at the ways people of the earth got along together or in some cases even went to war. I have long loved the word ‘intercourse’, which means connections, or the way people communicate. This has been corrupted in the modern world to mean sexual intercourse, but it started out as meaning social intercourse. Or the way people get along together and communicate. That is what Civics is all about. Intercourse among people."
There were some soft giggles for a moment when she said sexual intercourse, but they quieted down as she continued. "The modern buzzword in human social intercourse today is ‘Diversity.’ By this we mean recognition of each other’s differences, capitalizing upon the strengths of those differences, and welding them into a stronger whole." There was a murmur of assent, as each one of us had heard of the black/white and young/old and rich/poor and male/female groups trying to achieve something with diversity efforts that always seemed to fail after a while. "Today, in this introductory class, I’d like you to divide into groups and talk about Diversity. And I think sexual diversity is an appropriate topic for at least one of the groups, seeing as we have a nice young ADP fellow with us today. I think about 6-8 kids should form a discussion group, pick a subject and discuss it for about a half hour, and then make a report on what they have decided."
There was a buzz of conversation, scraping of chairs and desks, and after being careful not to let my stiff hardon upset a desk again, I found myself with 4 girls and 2 guys arranged in a circle. My deskmate was one of the girls, and she had trouble maneuvering around my dick as we shoved our desk into position. Don’t worry about it, I said. It’s not going to attack you. She gave me a tentative smile in response.
"What I think we should discuss is sexual diversity," said the girl who took over as discussion leader. "Here we are with a new boy sitting here naked and with a great big hardon that’s probably not his fault, just like being a Negro is not their fault. In spite of the ADP program, how do we avoid humiliating him for his difference, making fun of him, not giving him a chance to know us, and more importantly, not giving us a chance to know him? How do we bring him into what we are doing without putting him down for being different?"
Someone interrupted. "Wait a moment. Overall, are you also asking how can we get girls to bring boys into what they are doing?" asked one of the guys. "You girls are always putting us down and not giving us a chance. Yeah, I see you getting ready; we boys do the same thing, don’t we. Tell you what, you’re probably right. Let’s ignore the hardon, though that’s pretty hard to do, and concentrate on the person."
The conversation went on from there, sometimes heated, sometimes funny, with the Teacher sitting in occasionally and listening. Everyone agreed (including me) that it was pretty tough to just ignore a 10-12" male flagpole striding along the hallways, but they reiterated that they did not mean "ignore" in the way young white kids used to ignore the few blacks in the "good" white schools. The idea of "pay no attention to it" seemed to prevail. The one good thing about ADP rules was the strict edict against any student bringing attention to the kid’s plight by laughter or anything else. In the course of the discussion I felt I really got to know these guys. They listened to what I had to say, laughed at some of my joking remarks about ADP, and treated me, all in all, as if I belonged here.
Finally the Teacher stepped up to the front of the class and called a halt. "Boys and girls, I’ve let it go on a bit too long for each group to give a report today. It was so interesting that I lost track of time. So what I’d like to do is have each group leader give a short summary of what was decided this period at our next meeting. All right? The way you all were going at it, I think this was a really good experience. Textbooks tomorrow, and a more structured class, but first we will have short oral reports on today’s discussions. Thank you, everyone. Class is dismissed."
We all pushed our chairs and desks into some sense of order, shouldered our backpacks and satchels, and marched out of the class. The little brunette came close to me smiling and said, "Don’t forget your towel."