Something in the chalk?

The other day a coworker approached me and whispered to me the
"gossip."

"Can't say I was surprised," she goes on indignantly. " You remember that JLo dress she wore to the sophomore dance, don't you? Cut down to there?"

"Um....no," I think. "And what kind of psycho does remember prom dresses pre-Katrina?"

I say a simple, "No," however.

It's a shame, of course, because she's a good kid.
She's kind of wild, but she's one of my favorites, if I'm honest.

Ever since I've had a homeroom, each year, except last, it's in my homeroom that the inevitable happens.

Why mine?

In fact, I've noticed that at least 90 percent of the pregnancies seem to occur in the exact same quadrant of the class.
(I mean, that is, where the pregnancy-prone students have sat....not where they've gotten pregnant...well, at least I hope not.

Despite it all, I can't help but sometimes a little like a bad
father.