A friendly after class chat with my grade schooler pupil.

During the daily independent reading session, I notice one of my students being restless. They subtly fidgeted with the pages of their book, eyes darting, crossing their legs as if they needed to use the restroom. I assumed they had to go, and so I waited for them to raise their hand, yet, nothing ever came of it. It was odd to me that, despite seeming eager for something, it wasn't a need to use the toilet. It was something even more primal, something people have deemed a sin. I had to find out if my suspicion could lead to something special I seek. After class I ask to see them for a mundane reason, something relating to the answers they provide for the chapter review being lacking, and for them to see me during recess. I needed an excuse for holding a student in preparation one of my colleges or, worse, administrator walked by and see a teacher and their pupil without a slip and without a reason in a vacant room. 

Recess had come along still to see of anyone walk through the door. Just then, I heard footsteps coming close and closer and closer, but it was what I believed a pair nearing their way here. The two figures stopped in front my door but didn't open. Instead, one whispered something into the other's ear, then left. A knock followed.

"Come in," I approved.

They open the door to my classroom slowly and make their way inside. As they approached my desk, I take a moment to admire them. They wore a tee shirt which was a bright yellow with a cheerful message written on the chest, their jeans a deep blue, the rim of the pockets bejeweled. The tee shirt in particular was loose enough where if you stood over them, a prize would await you. I wondered if I were to offer to adjust their tee shirt for them, would it be alright for me to see it? I caught myself staring too deeply as though if I looked long enough the clothes would magically become invisible. I look up to find them red. Did I stare too long, I ask myself. Though, at a second glance, I noticed their jeans had dark spots where the knees are. 

My time was limited, yet had to continue naturally. I asked them about the condition of their jeans. 

"My friends dared me to jump over a large puddle of water. I made it but landed of my knees. Mrs. [redacted] came over when she saw us playing near the water. Everyone else ran away but me."

Kids and their odd ideas of fun, I think to myself. I ask a question to lead the conversation to the present.

"Was Mrs. [redacted] the teacher who brought you here?"

"Yes"

I think of the earlier story with a response. You have mean friends. Want me to help you feel better? Take off your clothes.I wanted to ask them right there, but having it be so blunt and sudden, I doubt it would lead anywhere; only confusion and perhaps a nice tidy cell. With the story coming to an end, I seize the moment to talk to her about their grades. I question the sudden poor performance in their written assignments in my class. They had been doing well until a week ago, what changed? This girl was stubborn but clever. Something was hindering her ability to do her best. You know why.

"I haven't slept much, I guess." Her words honest but bleak. A half truth. She wanted me brush away the topic as if hiding it.

"Why haven't you been sleeping much?" I pry. I want you to tell me, you don't have to hide it.

Silence.

As I suspected, she won't tell anyone why. Though she is an honest girl. If it were anything else keeping her up she no doubt would have talked to her friends about it and continue to do good on her academics. I have never been good at leading a conversation when given the cold shoulder. Though due to my role, from the perspective of an impressionable child, I understand my words carry a certain influence.

"Whatever it may be keeping you, you must understand you must upkeep your grades. If you can't tell me, thats okay. I simply want to know how to help you to the best of my ability." A generic responds of the good adult, me, has to say in my position.

I see a typical bodily response. Understandable. I would do the same. I look towards the clock for the time, it telling me it is nearing the end of recess with it's hands. The time has come. I walk up from my desk and my pupil follows like the little duckling they are. I suddenly stop at the door and turn to ask her what I've asked countless others.

"Since your qualifications have been low recently, I'll give you a chance to redeem your grades."

I kneel down to her level so that our eyes would meet.

"Hand in a writing describing your sleepless nights. In it, tell me everything you feel. If you do, I'll be able to help you, okay?"

She nods but had yet to feel convinced. I had to let her know I knew.

"I use to have that same feeling to, you know? The feeling inside where pee isn't what wants to come out," I cheekily whisper whilst making a humorous gesture giving the impression that it is normal and can laugh talking about genital in an informal context.

I finally notice a smile brewing as she fails to attempt holding in her giggle. I smile back

"Keep it a secret, okay?"

She nods her head eagerly, which I hope is earnest. The bell rings. Kids begin to come in from the outside of the building. Talk of chalk, balls, and bets lost fill the once silent hallways. I open the door to let my pupil out into the wilderness where they were promptly swallowed by the wave of students. I imagine a scenario where I held their waist whilst tracing my fingers over their figure which would have yet to have defined curves, to see their red, confused expression right before opening the door and sending them on their merry way. While this session may have followed as usual, I burn the imagine of the glimpse I caught of inside their yellow tee shirt when I kneeled to meet her eyes. I return to my desk and begin to note in an elegant cursive writing, -Seemingly willing to write about their new sensation. Trustworthiness: to be determined.- and place the note in the secret compartment of my desk drawer. Another added to the list.