Early that year, I paid a visit to one of my old secondary school classes. In that particular lesson, a girl named Abigail politely asked the teacher for permission to use the loo. The teacher, however, denied her request. Abigail asked again, even more courteously, but he refused once more.
A few minutes passed, and Abigail made it clear that it was rather urgent, yet the teachers response remained a stern and unwavering No. His patience was clearly wearing thin, so when Abigail, after another five minutes, pleaded that she genuinely had an emergency, his answer grew even more threatening: No.
Then, summoning up her courage, Abigail stood up. The entire class turned their gaze upon her as she flushed red with embarrassment. Yet right in front of everyone, she spoke directly to the teacher, explaining that she had started her period and truly needed to go to the loo immediately.
The classroom fell completely silent, every eye fixed on her in shock. After an awkward pause, the teacher coldly told her to sit back down and still refused to let her leave. The room was heavy with embarrassment until, quite suddenly, a boy named David, who rather resembled a rugby player, stood up. In a strong voice he demanded, Have you a wife, sir? Did you not grow up with a mother or a sister? Shes on her period and needs the bathroom shes going, whether you say so or not.
David then strode over, gently took Abigail by the hand, and escorted her out to the toilets. When they returned, the teacher was livid, chastising both of them for what he called disgraceful behaviour and severely scolding David. That day has stayed with me ever since.
As I think back, I realise David showed greater sense and decency than the teacher ever did.
