With the ring of a bell, twenty high school students had begun filing into the classroom and taking their desks, and as he watched them from in front of the blackboard, smiling and nodding and greeting them as they passed, Ryan Desilva concealed his nervousness as he consulted his notes and curriculum again.
In his early thirties, tall and lean, with a thick shock of dark hair and kind eyes behind a well-chosen pair of glasses, he could be described as Clark Kent-ish. He and his wife and two girls had moved from Texas a few months ago, where he had been a middle school science teacher, and he'd quickly gotten a job at the high school as a substitute while he searched for more permanent employment.
The transition had been great for the whole family, though substitute teaching had its downsides—Ryan usually only had a short notice to get a feel for what he would be teaching on any given day, and he was highly detail-oriented and committed to doing quality work in serving his students and the school administration. But he was adept at thinking on his feet, and he enjoyed working with the students, so altogether it was a positive situation.
He'd gotten the call last night to step in and teach today's social studies class for John Marshall, who had become suddenly ill and was in bed. And Ryan had to admit he was looking forward to the class.
As the last students found their seats, Ryan stepped forward and with a smile introduced himself as Mr. Desilva and explained the situation.
'Now as I understand things, this semester has been about social institutions. In the first part of the semester you studied the legislative process, and I believe you concluded that portion with a mock legislature to learn and practice parliamentary procedure, correct?'
The students nodded and agreed, and a clean-cut young man raised his hand and eagerly reminded everyone that he had played the role of speaker of the house, which received a combination of cheers and boos, presumably in proportion to the students who had formed either side of the aisle when parliament was in session.
Ryan chuckled, 'Then you spent a couple weeks studying the justice process, right? And then you did a mock trial?'
Again the students nodded.
'Excellent,' Ryan continued, 'so for the last two weeks you have been studying the Festival, and how it impacts various parts of society, yes? So today it looks like we will be doing a mock Festival Pageant!'
This time there was a chorus of cheers and groans. The boys were understandably excited about this idea, while most of the girls were slightly less enthusiastic. Ryan paid little attention, however; whether it was math, english, social studies, or any other subject, students naturally found some subjects more or less interesting or fun—but in the end his job was to simply teach them all.
He raised his hand to quiet the class, and, consulting his class packet, began to organize the project.
'We're going to have three boys take the roles of the judges—do I have any volunteers?'
Immediately eight hands went up as every boy offered his services to the learning opportunity. Ryan chuckled to himself and chose three at random, and beckoned them to the front of the room, where he handed them Festival scoring sheets which were clearly marked 'Replica—For Training Purposes Only'.
After learning that their names were Andrew, Samuel, and Max, Ryan turned to the class and asked if anyone remembered how the judges were selected for the Festival.
'They are the three oldest men in a district still able to have sex with a girl,' a young lady in the front row answered.
Ryan nodded.
'Correct. It is a position that is earned each year in the selection process, and it's a position of honor and respect. They have had the most experience with the female body, and are considered best able make determinations concerning the desirability of any given girl.'
Another young woman raised her hand.
'Mr. Desilva, how are they actually selected?'
'Great question,' Ryan replied, 'I'm actually new in town, and I know customs can vary, but back where I'm from in Texas they held an application event where anyone who wanted to be a judge could try out at the courthouse. Three girls who were serving light jail time would be brought in, and in exchange for assisting in the selection process they could have their sentences reversed.
'Then each applicant had fifteen minutes to demonstrate that he could successfully have sex with his choice of the three girls. The three oldest qualifying applicants became the judges each year.'
This explanation was met by several exclamations of 'ew!' and 'gross!', which Ryan played off by recommending that none of the girls in class do anything that might make them go to jail.
He continued, reading from his syllabus.
'So the goal of today is to complete this model Festival exactly as it is written here, and that is meant to accomplish two things: 1) help the young men in the class begin to develop a better understanding of how the young female body is evaluated in the Festival, and how they can use these same concepts to increase their appreciation of the female body in their own practical applications, and 2) help the young women in the class understand more clearly how they will be evaluated in their own Festival, and how they can apply that understanding in their own personal experience.
'So next we need three girls to volunteer as the Festival participants-anyone?'
This time only one hand went up, toward the back of the room. Ryan smiled at the owner, a tiny little thing with dark hair and full lips and an obvious energy one might call 'attitude', and asked her name as he beckoned her up.
'My name is Amia, Mr. Desilva' she answered, bouncing to the front of the room with a giant grin and sparkling eyes.
'Well thank you for volunteering, Miss Amia,' Ryan said, shaking her hand and leading her to stand in front of his desk. She was obviously not shy, and stood with her hands on her hips, gently wagging her backside as she waited for further instructions.
Ryan turned back to the class.
'Let me ask this—has anyone here already celebrated their Festival? I know most of you are a couple years too young to have, I believe.'
Two hands were raised this time, and Ryan smiled and told the owner of the first to put it back down.
'Shannon is my daughter, class. We're from Texas, and she has already been through this process—and she came in fifth! Thank you sweetheart, but I think you can stay in your seat today.
Ryan then turned to the beautiful brunette with green eyes who had slowly raised her hand, and asked her name and why she was in this class.
As she stood up to answer, Ryan saw she was wearing neither a bra beneath her sheer white school blouse, which was still only buttoned to just below her substantial breasts, nor was she wearing a skirt-she stood beside her desk wearing only her sheer white regulation panties, and her heels.
'My name is Jordanna,' she said softly, 'and I have had to repeat two years of school. I had my Festival last year, but I have a hard time with school stuff sometimes. Especially math.'
Ryan heard some embarrassment in her voice, but was pretty sure it had more to do with her academic insecurities than the fact that she was practically naked. He probed a little deeper.
'Miss Jordanna, based on your state of dress am I right in guessing that you have discipline problems as well?'
Jordanna nodded, frustration welling in her voice. 'Yes, Mr. Desilva. But it's not my fault-I just forgot to do my laundry yesterday, and I only had a black bra, and a black skirt! Mr. Dennison stopped me in the hallway on the way here, and he said since it's my second time this week not complying with the uniform code, he needed to confiscate them. I really try, Mr. Desilva-I really really do!'
Ryan felt badly for her, and decided not to risk making her feel more uncomfortable in front of the class. He smiled kindly.
