By way of the folks over at Lone Star Times.
I’ve got to wonder if the members of the Arlington School Board are lab experiment refugees.
Why do I say this? Well, it seems to be fairly obvious that any male member of the Arlington School Board has totally and completely forgotten what is was like when puberty hit. They have, believe it or not, decided to ban cleavage so that teenage boys will no longer be ‘distracted’.
Ye Gods and little fishies. How bloody ancient are the members of the Arlington School Board? I mean, seriously?
If you’re a male of the species, raise a paw. Now, if you remember those heady days when you first noticed that girls were delightfully different, keep those paws up.
Okay, now, did it matter what girls were wearing? In other words, were you distracted by the clothes, or what was inside of the clothes?
I thought so.
When my family finally moved to the States for good, I was already dealing with my voice wandering happily up-and-down the scale and the sudden sprouting of peach-fuzz and other associated fur that hits the male of the species on a fairly predictable basis (except, apparently for some folks in Arlington) but I hadn’t quite discovered the “Me-Boy-You-Girl-WOW!” thing until one fall afternoon at the Dairy Queen.
Dad usually took his vacation in the summer, and we spent it at the home of my mother’s parents in North Texas. There was a little blonde girl named Cherie living down the street from my grandparents who wound up being the closest thing I had to a friend in that town, and I usually spent most of my playtime every summer with her.
Fast forward to me being permanently stuck Stateside. I’m dealing with the fact that I’m going to be attending an American school, and my voice is acting stupid, and I’m not exactly sure that I’m happy about Life in General.
In my self-absorbed state, it barely registered on me that Cherie had taken to wearing big fuzzy sweaters most of the time, but — in my defense — I did notice that she smelled awfully good all of a sudden.
So, there we were in the Dairy Queen, with her telling me that I was going to like the local High School, and not to worry, I’m not convinced, I go to the counter to get refills on our drinks, turn around … and Cherie was in the middle of an epic, back-popping stretch.
About that time the Puberty Gnome sprinted out from under a table, jumped up, and fetched me a right good thump betwixt the running lights with a solid oak cluebat.
I didn’t realize until later that he took advantage of my dazed state to abscond with about 90% of my cognitive functions, including most of my fine motor control, communications skills, and powers of concentration and self-control.
Took about ten years to get them back, too. Little bastard.
Anyhoo, from that point on the default setting between my ears was jammed on “Girls.”
And it didn’t matter what they were wearing. Hell, you could’ve picked a girl — any of them — in my Algebra class, put her in a burlap burka, and I’d have at least one eye on her the entire class. And if, for whatever reason, she wound up doing any walking, I’d’ve had both eyes on her the entire class.
Those big fuzzy sweaters that Cherie wore? Hah! I had a pretty good idea of what was under those sweaters, and by God I wasn’t going to miss another glimpse — which caused me to watch for stretches and the like even more closely. Which wasn’t any good for my limited concentration, I’m here to tell you.
To this day, I still have a lingering appreciation for women in big fuzzy sweaters.
Anyhoo, Mama Nature has hard-wired the male brain for some fairly specific functions, and when she decides it’s time to crank up the testosterone in teen-age boys, the only way you are going to keep the female of the species from distracting teenage boys in school, is to have teen-age-boy-only classes, taught by male teachers.
Otherwise, they’re going to be distracted.
Come to think, I’m hitting forty and I’m still entranced by that nice little distaff hip-sway as they walk by.
But, here are the members of the Arlington School Board, utterly convinced that if they should ban the display of cleavage, teen-age boys will no longer be distracted.
What the hell planet are you folks from?