Or start with Scene 1 at

The school was on an assembly schedule Thursday, and my students were going to the responsibility assembly during third period.

In third, before we left, I said, "When we reach the gym, I want all of you to sit where I sit and stay near me. I'm going to hand each of you a slip of paper; write your name on it, and I will collect those slips once we are seated in the gym. I’ll only accept one slip from each student and use those slips to take roll. If I don't have one for you, you’ll be marked absent. Any questions?"

There were none, and I led my class across campus. We were the first to arrive and had the best seats in the house, directly in front of where each counselor and administrator would be speaking.

The assembly started with Mr. M, the vice principal in charge of discipline.

"I worked in another school district before I came here," he said, "and I went to four funerals of students I knew who died because of  drive–bys. I had to stop going to funerals, because I couldn't handle the grief. I knew those students who died, and I liked them. My goal is to see that as many of you live to graduate as possible, but statistics in this country are grim for ninth graders. Statistics say that half of you won't stay in school to reach graduation. I want to do whatever I can to see that change, and that means I'm going to get rid of any of you who want to get high on drugs, or drunk on alcohol, or be an active gangbanger."

A hand shot up in the crowd of ninth graders. "What’s a gang banger?" a girl's voice asked.

"Gangbangers are those students—usually ninth graders,” Mr. M replied, “who hang around gangs because they want to join. They want to belong. To get jumped in."

A groan swept the crowded bleachers. Traditional gang initiation meant the newbie gets beat up to prove he or she is tough enough to belong.

The first student through the door in fourth period was Delores, and Ramon was right behind her with his hand on her shoulder.

"I don't want a massage," Delores said. "Get your hand off me."

"Come on," he said, "let me give you a massage.”

"Do as she says, Ramon," I said, and his hand slipped off her shoulder. He followed her across the room.

One of the topics discussed during the assembly was sexual harassment. I decided this was a teachable moment, and after taking roll, I used what had happened between Delores and Ramon as an example of what a boy should not do.

Several of the boys said things that indicated they only saw girls as sexual objects.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Girls are people, too, and they have feelings. When a girl says no, that means no, and you better do what she says or suffer the consequences."

Most of the girls supported me, and then Alexis said, "Yea, you could get what happened to that Bobbitt guy if you mess with one of us."

Puzzled looks prompted me to explain the basics of the John Wayne Bobbitt case. The response from the class was pandemonium. It took a moment to settle them down and start the day’s lesson.

Maybe that teachable moment had been a mistake, but it seemed like such a good idea at the time.

Scenes from "Crazy is Normal, a classroom expose" will appear here Saturdays in thirteen installments covering the first ten percent of the memoir or 12,455 words.