It triggered a kind of chain reaction, a sudden mass unmasking. One boy raised his hand, and another followed a second later. It seemed like a safe bet that, sometime during that lost era, he had seen porn. Though he was a devout Catholic, he also liked to tell us stories about his wild years before he’d found God. had a certain world-weariness, an aura of having traveled far outside our sagging Rust Belt city. “Raise your hands if you’ve seen it.”Ī middle-aged man with slick black hair going gray at the temples, Mr. said, impatient, frowning at us in a cut the bullshit sort of way. Did he really expect us to answer honestly? And what would happen if we did? Tense, wary of a trap, we watched one another out of the corners of our eyes. But when the question came, everything in the dusty room seemed to go still the air itself seemed to thicken, to prickle against our skin. There were about twenty boys in the classroom that day, and until then, we probably weren’t paying full attention-some of us were thinking about lunch, others about the quiz next period. I was a freshman in high school when my religion teacher faced the class and asked, with a knowing smile, “How many of you have seen pornography?” Pietras | Creative Nonfiction | Summer 2019 | 16 minutes (4,291 words)
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