Abstinence

Abstinence
(By Robert Layton)

I WAS HOLDING A NOTICE FROM my 13-year-old son's
school announcing a meeting to preview the new course
in sexuality. Parents could examine the curriculum and
take part in an actual lesson presented exactly as it
would be given to the students.

When I arrived at the school, I was surprised to
discover only about a dozen parents there. As we
waited for the presentation, I thumbed through page
after page of instructions in the prevention of
pregnancy or disease. I found abstinence mentioned
only in passing. When the teacher arrived with the
school nurse, she asked if there were any questions. I
asked why abstinence did not play a noticeable part in
the material.

What happened next was shocking. There was a great
deal of laughter, and someone suggested that if I
thought abstinence had any merit, I should go back to
burying my head in the sand. The teacher and the nurse
said nothing as I drowned in a sea of embarrassment.
My mind had gone blank, and I could think of nothing
to say. The teacher explained to me that the job of
the school was to teach "facts, " and the home was
responsible for moral training. I sat in silence for
the next 20 minutes as the course was explained. The
other parents seemed to give their unqualified support
to the materials.

"Donuts, at the back, " announced the teacher during
the break. "I'd like you to put on the name tags we
have prepared-they're right by the donuts . . . and
mingle with the other parents. "Everyone moved to the
back of the room. As I watched them affixing their
name tags and shaking hands, I sat deep in thought. I
was ashamed that I had not been able to convince them
to include a serious discussion of abstinence in the
materials. I uttered a silent prayer for guidance. My
thoughts were interrupted by the teacher's hand on my
shoulder. "Won't you join the others, Mr. Layton?" The
nurse smiled sweetly at me. "The donuts are good."
"Thank you, no, " I replied. "Well, then, how about a
name tag? I'm sure the others would like to meet you."
"Somehow I doubt that, " I replied. "Won't you please
join them?" she coaxed. Then I heard a still, small
voice whisper, "Don't go." The instruction was
unmistakable. "Don't go!" "I'll just wait here, " I
said.

When the class was called back to order, the teacher
looked around the long table and thanked everyone for
putting on name tags. She ignored me. Then she said,
"Now we're going to give you the same lesson we'll be
giving your children. Everyone please peel off your
name tags." I watched in silence as the tags came off.
"Now, then, on the back of one of the tags, I drew a
tiny flower. Who has it, please?" The gentleman across
from me held it up. "Here it is!" "All right, " she
said. "The flower represents disease. Do you recall
with whom you shook hands?" He pointed to a couple of
people. "Very good, " she replied. "The handshake in
this case represents intimacy. So the two people you
had contact with now have the disease." There was
laughter and joking among the parents. The teacher
continued, "And whom did the two of you shake hands
with?" The point was well taken, and she explained how
this lesson would show students how quickly disease is
spread. "Since we all shook hands, we all have the
disease."

It was then that I heard the still, small voice again.
"Speak now," it said, "but be humble." I noted wryly
the latter admonition, then rose from my chair. I
apologized for any upset I might have caused earlier,
congratulated the teacher on an excellent lesson that
would impress the youth, and concluded by saying I had
only one small point I wished to make. "Not all of us
were infected, " I said. "One of us . . . abstained."