Ain’t Misbehaving Read Online Free PDF

of the football coach belting out a few gruff words on the subject. And Coach had looked nothing like Kay.
    She wore an open-weaved violet sweater, with sort of puffed sleeves and a rounded neckline. The clingy fabric skimmed gently over her slim figure, softly revealing the pert swell of her breasts. Her straight skirt, a plaid in muted jewel tones—violet and sapphire and topaz—not only hugged her hips but showed off her legs. And he’d been right about her hair. She did wear it simply brushed back, swirling around her shoulders whenever she moved.
    Her skirt hiked up as she pinned two magazine photographs above the blackboard. “Sexual stereotypes in ads,” she announced. “One for makeup and the other for a motorcycle. You see dozens of ads every day, and each one tries to tell you what the Ideal Man or Ideal Woman in our culture is supposed to look like. Steven, do you think the girl in this ad is good-looking?”
    “You better believe it,” hooted the boy from the back of the room. Two girls turned around to scowl at him.
    “Is she sexy?” Kay asked.
    There was a chorus of male agreement.
    “She doesn’t have a single flaw,” Kay agreed. “Heck, she doesn’t even have a pore. The camera makes us believe she’s absolutely perfect. And the ad makes us believe that perfection is the goal for a woman. But it’s pretty easy to feel self-conscious, intimidated, even inadequate comparing oneself to that kind of role model. So…are these ads valid? Mark, answer a question for me. Is that your standard? When you feel attracted to a girl, is that what first appeals to you—how close to a perfect beauty she is?”
    Finally, to Kay’s relief, they began to talk about their sexual feelings. For a while, she thought the boys in the back of the room were going to do nothing but smirk and wisecrack. For eleventh graders, some of them were remarkably immature.
    It was her last class of the day, and she was glad when the bell rang. “Hold it one more second,” she ordered. “On Monday, I want you each to bring me pictures from magazines or newspapers that tell us more about sexual roles in our—” she spotted Mitch in the doorway, and gulped in shock “—society. Be prepared to talk about what you think is sensible in those roles, and what you think is unimportant, illogical or unfair.”
    The class, dismissed, headed toward the open door with the collective grace of a charging bull. For a minute, Mitch’s face was lost in the shuffle. Maybe she had only imagined he was there? She hadn’t heard from him since the previous Saturday and hadn’t expected to; they hadn’t even exchanged last names.
    But when the kids cleared out, he was definitely there, leaning against the doorway, an old brown leather jacket slung over one shoulder and a brown-corded leg shoved forward as he waited for her. She felt a flush climbing her cheeks as she hurriedly retrieved her books and papers.
    “I’ve gone through more trouble than you know to find you, Kay Lucretia Sanders.” His voice boomed out in the empty room.
    She grabbed her coat with a sudden smile. “I can understand how you might have learned my last name, and even how you tracked me to this school. But not how you uncovered Lucretia. That middle name’s been buried for years.” Her eyes flashed impish glints. “You must be a very determined man,” she said solemnly. “Either that, or unbelievably nosy. Did you enjoy the lesson?”
    “I wanted to come in and sit on the kid in the back row, but I controlled myself.”
    She chuckled, switching out the light as they left the room. “Jeff will come around one of these days. Compassion and patience work a great deal better than stem reprimands, at least for my subject.”
    “Maybe, but sitting on him would have been a great deal more satisfying.”
    She chuckled, sliding him a sideways glance as they headed for the back door of the school. The kids in the hall—particularly the girls—were giving him plenty