The Warped and Wicked Gym Teacher of Bridgeport, West Virginia
Jacob Packert started off the morning with a prayer for the new school year. He asked for success in basketball, good grades, acceptance to a D-I university, hopefully with a scholarship, and maybe, if God was okay with it, a girlfriend to end high school with. They were all reasonable requests (the scholarship was a stretch), and he considered himself an honest, loyal, God-fearing boy of eighteen, fortunate enough to live in the United States of America, in the great town of Bridgeport, West Virginia, and to attend the privileged Franklin Academy, considered the best private school in the state and the number one basketball program in the county. He knew this would be the year that everything fell into place, and the time that his dreams would begin to come true.
He also prayed that he would not fall to wickedness, the enemy of Life, so that he might not stray from the path laid out for him by his loving family - his doting mother, who constantly taught him about right and wrong; his strong father, who did his duty every day, his uncle, the preacher, who led the church, expanding the parishioners' capacity for moral aptitude with his stirring sermons and personal example.
It wasn't easy, to avoid sin. Even here in West Virginia, his classmates weren't all a supportive community. At school there were Jews, atheists, profligates. It gave him doubts, and recently he was having troubling thoughts. Did God really love all people? If so, why did so many suffer? If not, why did others seem perfectly happy? What was truly good, and what was not? Was pleasure good, or just a tool of Satan's to lead one from the purer path? Did God . . . really exist at all? He quashed that last thought hard. Of course He did. He was just hard to see for those who are blinded by the illusion of the material world.
There were other troubling thoughts as well. Girls inhabited his daydreams more and more, when he should be more concentrated on other things - school, sports, family, and church. But he noticed all the pretty girls, and their ways. He was not allowed to date - there would be time for that later, assured his parents - but that was a strict position, even in Bridgeport, and most of his friends had had girlfriends, especially on the team. He was the only one who hadn't. As talented a player as he was, and at six-foot-four one of the tallest, he stood out as much for this social oddity. Girls didn't flirt with him any more, and guys didn't talk to him about their dating lives. He wasn't sure if he was the only virgin on the team, but he suspected he was.
But that didn't matter. It was a sin not to be. He was confident in his path. That was the function of prayer - to help him manage these disturbing distractions of the mind. He shut his eyes, and prayed.
The first class of the day was an experimental and progressive Physical Education, designed by Athletic Director Tomlinson himself, exclusively for the elite athletes on campus, in order to maximize their potential. He was excited - it was a relatively new elective, but older students lucky enough to have been selected had raved about it as by far their favorite class. It also meant first period with Ms. Bandy.
Ms. Bandy was something of a legend at the Franklin Academy. She had been a fairly recent graduate of the school, back in the class of 1993, where she excelled in three sports, but her primary talent was fast pitch for women's softball. She made the first Olympic team in 1996 and won a gold medal, making her the pride of Bridgeport. Not one to forget her roots, she returned to Bridgeport, and to Franklin, as the school's new PE instructor, replacing Mr. Farnborough, much to everyone's delight. She was an instant star, among students and faculty alike, for her cheerful personality, her infectious smile, her open Christian faith, and her healthy good looks. This was her third year on campus, but it would be the first year Jacob had a class with her.
He was, no doubt, excited about it. Not only was she the most beautiful woman he had ever seen up close - she was five-foot-seven, with dark brown, almost black hair, contrasting strikingly with her ivory white skin; big, round, sparkling blue eyes, a light dusting of freckles on her thin nose and high cheeks, and soft, full lips; her body was constantly covered by an unflattering polyester sweatsuit, but photos around campus showed her to be a true athlete; she was, in a word, perfect - and she embodied so much that he personally strived for. She was kind, smart, happy, focused, gifted, and pious. She volunteered for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes on campus, a group he was a part of. She was always friendly with him, even if they hadn't really gotten to know each other, as she assisted the girls in the group, taking them to pancake breakfasts and county events. He hoped to know her better. He blushed when he thought of her. He believed she was unbelievable.
Jacob arrived to the gym early, for the first class of the first day of school. Ms. Bandy was organizing equipment in the far corner, under the basketball nets, which had been cranked up to the high ceiling. She noticed him, waved his way with a big smile, and jogged over.
"Hiya!" she greeted. "Jacob, right?" she asked, with a mock-uncertain look in her eye and pointing at him with a finger gun.
He lit up. "Yeah," he smiled.
She wrinkled her nose and flashed her teeth. It was adorable. "Well, welcome back! Looking forward to getting to know you this year. You play basketball, right? Two-guard?"
"That's right," he answered. He was melting. She knew his position! She must have watched him play.
"Y'all are gonna have a great team. Regional runner-ups, three starters returning? Y'all are gonna be a beast." He chuckled with all the humility he could muster.
"You look like you've grown, too. They're gonna have to move you to power forward!" He blushed a bit.
Thankfully, other students began to trickle in. "Okay, I've got to get the class ready. Good talking to you, Jacob!" She patted the side of his arm. He felt light as air.
Class was great. She was a knowledgeable trainer - calisthenics, followed by chest and shoulder exercises, some coordination drills, ending with a fun soccer-like game she made up. He felt good and awake, ready to start the day. He headed toward the locker room doors with the rest of the boys, looking forward to a shower.
"Hey, Jacob, would you mind staying back a minute? I need to ask you a question," she genially raised her eyebrows as she asked.
"Uh, sure, what's up?"
"Up in my office, real quick." Some of the other guys started to 'oooooh' at the comment. "Knock it off, kids," she reprimanded, hands on her hips.
Jacob was mildly confused, but not concerned. He never did anything wrong. "Yeah, sure." Her office was on the second floor of the gym, up a metal staircase. She sprinted up the stairs, two at a time, like a track star at practice. So full of energy, he thought. She was such an extraordinary woman. He walked up the stairs at normal speed.
By the time he entered, she was sitting at her desk, waiting for him, smiling as ever. She extended a hand, as if to offer him a seat in the metal folding chair on the other side of her desk, which he did.
"So, what's up?"
Her smile faded a bit, as she pursed her lips together in a show of seriousness. "Jacob, you've been an athlete for a while, right? I'm guessing, all your life?" He felt a twinge of pride; was it that obvious?
"Yeah, all my life," he said. "My parents are big believers that . . . "
"And in the last few years of engaging in athletics, has anyone taught you about proper . . . fitness wear?" she inquired. He didn't know what she meant.
"You mean like my shoes?" he asked innocently. She chuckled.
"No, not like your shoes," she laughed lightly. "I mean like sports underwear." He blinked reflexively.
"Sports underwear?"
"I don't know how to say this without embarrassing you, so I'll just say it. I can tell you're not wearing a jockstrap in class."
He looked down. "Uh..."
"When you jog. It's . . . noticeable." His face went crimson.
