Or Press the Panic Button

So yesterday in my first period English IV class I was describing the wacky world of misplaced modifiers when all of a sudden a hushed hub-bub broke out in the back of the room among those who are generally more loud and animated. I could distinguish few words and was fairly confident that they weren't concerned about the canyon being 10 miles deep (as opposed to the winding path, like the example indicated), but I did recognize the words "Ms." and "Haag" among the frantic whispers.

I asked them what was going on, and they all stopped and stared at me. Finally, the bravest kid in the back of the room, the one who is not shy about discussing any topic broke the silence by sheepishly asking,

"What happens if your water breaks in our class?"

Silence again.

I looked intently at all of them, trying to decide how I was going to respond to them, to this question that they were seriously concerned about. Out of my mouth came,

"Well. I guess the front row will get wet."

The class, responding as one, took in a huge breath of air and squealed, "Ewwwwwwwwwwww!" Then came a chaotic blend of amused voices that shrieked, "Oh my god!" and "Noooo!" and "Get it off of me!"

When the laughter finally died down, I did explain to them that probably nothing would happen if my water broke in their class, that more than likely I would walk out of the room calmly and that they wouldn't notice anything was amiss until a substitute walked in. I explained that nothing would "explode" or "spray" or "pop" and that I was sorry to disappoint them, but even if my water does break or if I do go into labor, I would more than likely walk calmly out of the room. I would probably NOT give birth in front of them, and that Junior, the kid who sits front and center, would not be in charge of finding towels.

The weird thing is, they weren't really relieved. They actually were disappointed. They explained that it's not because they want me to go into labor in front of them, but they recently realized that they wouldn't even get to meet Jack. They compared their situation to watching a movie that they were really interested in, and then having someone turn it off right before the exciting ending. "Sorry, you don't get to see what happens next, even though you've invested a lot time here. Too bad, so sad."

They're right. They are seniors which means they won't be back next year. They won't get to see Jack, even though they've thrown baby showers, suggested names, and cleared the halls for their poor, pregnant teacher. They've dealt with the wacko hormones and have tolerated all of my moans and groans. They know I probably won't see them walk the stage or go to their prom, even though they are eager to share these moments with me.

I didn't realize until this silly conversation that this is the end of the year and, more than ever, there is a reason to feel nostalgic. It was sort of a bitter sweet moment..

And then I told 4th period this story and they responded by shrugging and declaring,

"Oh, we already decided that if you go into labor in our class, we'll just press the panic button.."