The 10th-grade biology classroom went dead silent the moment the teacher posed her opening question of the day.
“Who can tell me,” the teacher asked, “what specific part of the human anatomy expands to ten times its original size when exposed to intense excitement?”
Jessica’s face instantly flushed a violent shade of crimson. She bolted upright, slamming her textbook onto her desk. “That is absolutely disgusting! I am reporting you to the school board! I do not have to sit here and answer vulgar questions!”
The teacher calmly blinked, entirely unfazed by the outburst. She looked past the outraged teenager and pointed to a quiet boy sitting in the back row. “Jamie, do you know the answer?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jamie replied confidently. “That would be the pupil of the human eye.”
“Perfectly correct, Jamie. Excellent scientific observation,” the teacher smiled.
She then turned her icy gaze back to a trembling, self-righteous Jessica and slowly adjusted her glasses.
“As for you, young lady, I have three distinct things to say: First, you completely failed to read last night’s assigned chapter on ocular biology; second, you have an incredibly dirty mind; and third…”
The teacher paused, letting the silence hang in the air for maximum dramatic effect.
“…you are setting yourself up for a very, very big disappointment later in life.”
