I was reminded of the days of the old school dance.
They were strictly supervised by Brother Kevin and Sister Mary. The dances brought together the two catholic schools, and for both boys and girls, it was not only a treat but also a novelty like no other.
Brother Kevin and Sister Mary saw it as their responsibility to maintain a sense, at least in their eyes, of some decorum as our teenage hormones raged rampant.
Brother Kevin carried a piece of two-by-one timber about a metre in length, which he used to keep couples at a respectable distance. He was also not backward in hitting any boy he thought needed a swift reminder of his own responsibility even though we didn’t hold to having any such responsibilities on a night like this.
Their problems were exacerbated when the old-time dances were initiated. It was then we got to actually take hold of the girls, and they looked forward to it too.
The arms-length became arbitrary, and I saw Sister Mary particularly agitated as she skirted the dance floor urging couples to maintain a safe distance, which they did until she turned away and they resumed their respective close encounters.
It was clear from the behaviour of both teachers that the 10.30 finish of the dance couldn’t come fast enough. By the end of the night, they were both exhausted, happy to say good night to us all and both praying that in the coming weeks there would be no phone-calls from worried parents about the biological state of their respective daughters.
Us, on the other hand, went home fired up with lust and desire, phone numbers exchanged and secret rendezvous arranged.