Embarring moment # 141,979

 1970s Canada Elementary School 

Embarring moment # 141,979

I’m in front of them. Six or seven little faces staring, eyes wide, unblinking. My palms sweat. My heart pounds like a machine gun. The word hits me before I even hear it: “Mating.” A simple word, innocent enough. A simple word that turns my chest to stone. I go red. I stutter. My mouth opens. Closes. Words scatter like frightened birds.

Ten seconds pass. Fifteen. A lifetime in the eye of a storm. I know I can’t talk about sex. I barely understand it myself. Taboo presses down, heavy and silent. All the classroom noise, the scraping chairs, the whisper of papers—it disappears. Nothing exists but that word and those faces, waiting. Searching. Expecting.

I improvise. A lifeline. “Animals get married.” Pause. Nods. Relief. Irony. The tiniest lie, delivered under pressure, shaping their world in miniature. And yet the lie mirrors life itself. Parents do it. Teachers do it. Spies do it. Truth comes in layers. Partial. Provisional. Dangerous if mishandled.

I think of Elizabeth, Paige, the weight of secrets. The same pattern, the same tension. Eyes searching for cracks. Silence stretched taut. Lies necessary, yes. Lies protective. Lies performative.