I stood out in the hall at the classroom door watching the kids working in their Art class. When I caught Naomi’s attention, I motioned with my index finger for her to come out in the hallway.
“What?” Naomi asked guardedly when she got outside.
“Naomi, have your parents said anything more to you about going to the Sex Ed classes that start on Wednesday?” I asked.
Naomi’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because you told me last week they didn’t want you to go, but they’ve never sent back the form saying they don’t want you going to the class.”
Naomi looked down at the floor, and her eyes began darting back and forth. Then, “They don’t want me to go.”
Sex Ed classes are a touchy issue in school. Parents can opt kids out, but they must do so in writing. Naomi’s parents had not responded to my email or phone call. I didn’t want this blowing up on me if Naomi went to a class her parents didn’t want her going to. I swear, some days all I do is run around covering my tail.
“Then why didn’t they send back the form?” I asked.
Naomi hesitated again. Finally, “I don’t want to go to the class.”
“You don’t get to make that decision. Your parents do.”
“WHY? Why do I have to go to class if I don’t want to? What are they going to teach me?”
“Nurse Martin teaches the classes. You like Nurse Martin.”
“I don’t want to go!”
“So you lied to me last week about your parents?”
Naomi clamped her mouth tightly closed and stared back defiantly. There would be no confession today.
“Go back to Art Class,” I said disgustedly.