Naked in School-Kevin and Denise
It took two days plus to get to my destination. I had two flight delays that resulted in an overnight stay in Tokyo; fortunately I had packed lightly or my luggage would certainly have gotten lost. I had a change of clothes, some toiletries, and my electronics. No mobile; I had been told that the international SIMM card wouldn’t work in the U.S. and my device couldn’t accept U.S. carriers’ cards. That would be the first stop. Stop two had to be a car. I had checked out the area where I’d be living and although it had a reasonable public transit system, I still needed wheels. I had already gotten an Indonesian license and an international driver’s permit so I could drive for a while on it in the States but would eventually need to get a regular license. I didn’t expect Aunt Helene to meet me since she had difficulty getting around, so I took a cab to her home—my home now, too. I got there about 2 pm after some delays at clearing customs.
She greeted me warmly and lovingly. I was always very fond of her while growing up and she reminded me so much of Dad. We had a long and tearful reminiscence of Mom and Dad’s lives and Aunt Helene told me some really funny stories about Dad when they were younger. She was definitely the “older sister,” being some 15 years older than Dad. Seems he was their parents’ “surprise” baby.
Then she treated me to a super dinner; she obviously remembered that the way to a teenager’s heart was through his stomach. I was tired after my long trip and quite jet-lagged so I sacked out early, since I had a busy Saturday in store.
First thing Saturday I caught a bus—really need to find a car—to the bank and they had all my credit stuff and legal documents on my status ready. Then to the mobile phone store place and got a new mobile. I had scoped out on line a used car dealer which seemed to have a nice stock; they had a four-year-old Volvo (no luxury sports car for me) in good condition; nice solid and safe car. All was fine, I negotiated pretty hard—it’s that Arts training again, wow—until it came time for signing. All they wanted was a parent’s signature. No parents? Then a guardian. I showed them my emancipation decree; no go. I asked if they were aware that I had the legal standing of an adult. They didn’t seem to care. So I pulled out my big gun and told them that my lawyer could explain it. I got a rise when I mentioned his name. Hmmmm, they seemed to know it.
Bob Charlesworth spoke to the manager for exactly two minutes, and exactly two minutes after that, the paperwork was done, spitting out of the printer. Computers are cool. Good lawyers are cooler.
I drove off in my new wheels and did some more scouting around the area and ran a few errands, checked out the best way to get to school, and looked for a nice restaurant to treat Aunt Helene to dinner for the great meal on Friday. On Sunday we went out for a drive and Aunt Helene pointed out some of the sights she thought I’d like to visit when I had time. The evening came all too soon.
Then it was Monday and I had no idea how uncertain and unknown the day would actually be.
I had arrived at school about forty minutes early and looked for a “legal” spot—one that didn’t need a special sticker. I didn’t want any troubles on the first day. Made my way to the office where I was confronted by a blizzard of papers to fill out; you already know that part.
That’s when the real weirdness started and I’ve already begun to tell you about that, but even now that episode has such a surreal quality that sometimes I kind of wonder if it happened as I recalled it.
~~~~
I had asked Dr Fletcher to explain, using one-syllable words in a logical order what this circus was all about. Ok, I was too polite to use those exact words, but I think he caught my irony.
“Kevin, as I told you, we covered it in orientation and the materials went out in the summer mailing, surely you saw that?”
“Dr Fletcher, as I explained to your secretary, your mailing went to Seoul but we were in Jakarta then, and I came here directly from Jakarta. I didn’t see any mailings from you. To make it easier, let’s just stipulate that I have no idea whatsoever about this whole Program thing and let’s take it in small steps, ok, sir?”
See, I told you that maybe I’d like to be a lawyer. They get to use such nice juicy words that make someone think you know more than you really do.
“All right, Kevin. First, the Naked in School Program is a federally mandated cultural education program, completion of which is required, in the schools that run it, for a high school diploma. If you don’t successfully complete your Program, you don’t graduate. Everyone in school is required to spend one week naked whenever they are at school or at any school-sponsored activity. Second, a vital component of the Program is for the student to become comfortable with his or her body’s sexuality and to do that, there are various activities that students perform to accomplish that goal. I think the best way of describing that part is to refer to the Program booklet.”
He produced a little booklet and I glanced at its cover, which showed a drawing of a naked male and female holding hands. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The other kids, all of whom had obviously heard this stuff before, had a glassy-eyed look. The goon was still smirking but now he was bouncing just a little on the balls of his feet. His hands were also now curled a bit as if to grasp and they were slightly bent at his elbows whereas before they hung limply at his side. Hmmmm. Need to watch this guy. He’s priming himself for action.
I won’t bore you with the details about what the Program booklet covered. As I found out, a copy can be found on any school site or on the federal NiS office’s site. But in glancing through it, I noticed that there were a few “requirements” that I just couldn’t let pass unremarked, especially about a weirdness called “Reasonable Requests.”
“So, as I understand it, Dr Fletcher, any student can ask to handle a naked student’s sexual organs and manipulate them and the naked student cannot refuse?”
“That’s correct, any touching is by definition ‘Reasonable’ and failing to permit that is grounds for spending another week in the Program.”
“What if the person has a condition that precludes being touched in certain places?”
“Ah, Kevin, that’s exactly what the Program is designed to achieve. Its purpose is to remove any personal inhibitions, hangups, or phobias about having one’s sex organs stimulated.”
“And you say, uh, I think I’m quoting you properly, ‘the Program is for the student to become comfortable with his or her body’s sexuality,’ unquote, is that what you said?”
“That’s correct.”
“Ok, then, if it’s his or her body’s own sexuality, how can they be forced to adopt someone else’s idea of sexuality, like if one girl is a nympho and loves sex and another is a virgin and wants to avoid having intercourse, then you’re saying the Program can force the virgin to accept the nympho’s idea of sexuality?”
“Actually, the intent of the Program is to make the virgin become comfortable with the idea of having intercourse and not avoid doing it during her Program week; the Program will make her learn to actually embrace the idea of having intercourse and overcome her virginity hangup.”
“So this Program actually allows students to engage in penetration activities like intercourse or fellatio?”
“Yes, it does, it encourages those activities and makes them part of the Relief activity that occurs at the beginning of each class period.”
“What about getting kids pregnant and stuff? Nobody cares about that?”
“Kid, I don’t think you don’t need to worry about getting pregnant,” the guy at the door snarled.
“So what you’re telling me is this is a government sanctioned—no, hold that—a government required form of sexual molestation and rape.”
Denise shot me a look of desperation mixed with hope. I really have to find out about her story.
“Kevin, that’s not true at all! Look at what the booklet says:
“‘The Program has been carefully designed to help you become more comfortable with your body and your sexuality, to treat others in natural balance as both individual people and sexual beings, to learn to harness your natural energies, and to behave in a more mature and morally conscious manner. By becoming more comfortable with your body and sexuality, your sexual tensions will be diminished. This is your opportunity for rapid personal growth.’
“You should realize that this philosophy has been shown to vastly improve the psychological conditions of every student who is in the Program.”
“Hmmm, that’s a pretty absolute statement. Every student? Do you have any statistics showing a 100 percent rate?”
“Well, it’s not 100 percent, obviously. There are always the few outliers, mainly severely maladjusted people, who refuse to be benefitted by the Program.”
One of the kids finally joined in. I was starting to think that they were really just props in this psychodrama.
“Well, there’s been some suicides and a number of mental hospitalizations, according to this student anti-NiS webpage.” one of the boys muttered.
“Andrew! You know that’s illegal propaganda!”
“If it’s true, then when has the truth ever been illegal? Did this Program also get the Bill of Rights overturned?” I retorted.
Another boy put in, “Yeah, that was in the Supreme Court and they said that the Bill only applied to adults, minors could be subject to laws that violate those rights.”
Fletcher slapped his desk again. “Ok, that’s all, I’m done. You know the drill, there are the boxes, disrobe and put your clothes in them now.”
I spoke up. “Just a second, please. Remember, I’m the man from Mars here. For me to get my full feeling of ‘becoming comfortable’ with my body, please let me talk alone with these students since they’ve seen the Program in action and know about its objectives. That way I might be able to participate more fully. Just five minutes alone, please?”
Fletcher looked a little annoyed but he glanced at the goon who gave a barely perceptible nod. Ah, so he’s in charge somehow? Interesting...
Fletcher stood up. “Five minutes. Right.” The two left the room.
Everyone began speaking at once. I put up my hands. “Wait! Quiet! Five minutes goes fast. Denise, you’re totally distraught about this, much worse than anyone else.”
She responded in a whisper, “Everyone knows basically what happened. Last year the Program started here a few weeks before the end of the term and I was picked in the first group. I had an exemption letter but they told me that no exemptions were permitted. When they tried to forcibly undress me, I guess I went into shock or something because I collapsed and couldn’t be fully revived. I woke up in the hospital. More than two years ago, at the end of my last middle school year, my mother’s boyfriend had started to molest me and over that summer it became worse and worse. I tried to tell my mother but then he told her that I was only teasing him and he was teasing back. Then one day he tried to rape me while my mother was out. I screamed and screamed and tried fighting him off. The windows were open and a neighbor heard and called 911; he had gotten most of my clothes off and was lying on me, trying to to push his thing in me—rape me—when they broke in and caught him.”
Her eyes were tearing again; the others in the room were riveted to her words.
“As a result I have extreme vaginismus, I go into spasms and shock when I’m touched there. I have a morbid fear of any sexual contact and I’m in therapy and making progress. But being in the Program would set me back to my near rape or worse. I couldn’t come back to school to finish last term but my doctor said I wouldn’t have to do the Program, it could cause permanent psychological harm,” she finished, sobbing, with her tears rolling down her face.
I could only sigh, “Wow.” This was far worse than my own pitiful problem. I had to do something for her. I turned to the others. Time was getting short. “Anyone have a situation anything like Denise’s? Are you just uncomfortable with being nude or is there a psychological issue too?”
None admitted to one, but when I asked what the major problem was, it turned out to be some vicious groping and other sexual liberties that were committed on last year’s participants by both students and teachers, kinds of stuff which went way beyond what that dumb Program booklet spoke about. The things they told me that some teachers had done were so shocking that they were almost unbelievable.
“So if the gropers were stopped, that would be helpful? And reining in teacher abuses?”
All forcefully agreed. I thought quickly. There seemed to be no easy transition into nudity and full sexual contact, perhaps I could talk Fletcher into making the first day grope-free and get some kind of protection for the others for the rest of the week. The teachers would be a more difficult problem.
The time was up. Time now to face the unknown.
Copyright © 2015 Seems Ndenyal. All Rights Reserved.