The book I’m teaching in 7^th grade English is The Primrose Way. It’s about a Puritan girl named Rebekah who goes against her faith by befriending members of the native American tribe living nearby.

          Yesterday, we reached a part in the narrative where Qunnequawese, the girl who becomes Rebekah’s best friend, leaves the tribal village during her “woman time.” She tells Rebekah she will return in four or five days. Several of the boys in class seemed confused. What was this mysterious woman time, they asked, and why four or five days?

          I suddenly felt a surge of what can best be described as schoolmarmish modesty. Where to begin? I don’t want to pussyfoot around, but… pussyfoot? I don’t think so. I’m not going to beat around the bush…oh, my God! How was I supposed to frame an explanation when even the most namby-pamby phraseology was booby-trapped (booby!) with double-entendres far more salacious than the subject in question?

          Charles, one of my more mature students, raised his hand.

          “Yes, Charles?” I think he sensed my quandary.

          “Qunnequawese is referring to her menstrual cycle,” he said, matter-of-factly. He turned to his classmates. “Remember, guys? We learned about it in science last year.” I heard murmurs of oh, right.

          That’s when it hit me that teaching is kind of like landing a plane; the best approach is usually the one that is most direct.