I Should’ve Known A Puritan Wouldn’t Appreciate The Female Nude Body
By: Maryjo Wagner
Tags: Sexuality, Schools, April Fools, Humor, Pranks

Photo by Les Anderson on Unsplash

The Setting

I grew up in small-town Wisconsin––a place not synonymous with progressive, unbiased thinking, despite having a sprawling university that dominated much of its inner core.

Tradition, church on Sundays (except for me, thankfully), sports, American beer, heavy metal, dairy farms, Chevy Camaros cruising the main drags, and Ford trucks parked in driveways. That was my town.

Global, open-minded perspectives, teachings, and discussions weren’t standard practice on the street, nor in school––particularly in middle school and high school where our impressionable minds could be so easily swayed by dangerous and immoral liberal ideas.

I had been raised to welcome tolerance and acceptance, and was fairly comfortable with body science––my Mom was the school nurse who also happened to visit all the grade 6 classrooms to teach body development. (Yeah, that was a super fun day at school for me.) But I still toed the line at school and swallowed the conservative doctrine. Most of the time.

One particular April Fool’s Day, however, I broke with tradition.

The Target

To this day, I can’t recall who persuaded me to carry out this April Fool’s prank, but somehow my underdeveloped 12-year-old brain thought my seemingly angelic standing in school would immunize me from punishment. In fact, it never crossed my mind that I would even be suspected.

My target was my grade 7 English teacher, Mrs. Helgeson, a prim, 5'1 (in heels) bespectacled woman with red lipstick and an afro mane of black peppered with silver. Often adorned in pencil skirts and high-collared blouses, Mrs. Helgeson belonged to the older guard of teachers. She always began each class by addressing us from her wooden lectern set at the front of the room.

Maybe it was that towering podium, her senior teacher status, or her stiff posture, language, and teaching style that drew me to her. Whatever it was, she seemed the perfect candidate for some unexpected sexual sauce.

The Set Up

That morning I met a classmate in a hallway to acquire the essential prank item: a Playboy centerfold. We darted our eyes around and exchanged the poster with the urgency of a drug deal. I felt simultaneously subversive and naughty and invincible.

I strolled into Mrs. Helgeson’s room with the nudie in my backpack and was relieved to see that she wasn’t there. I had to act fast before the first bell rang, which would summon her. I quickly, yet gingerly pulled out the centerfold––mustn’t rip it––and knelt down in front of the lectern to hang it. Then I realized I didn’t have any tape. Not seeing any sticky stuff on Mrs. Helgeson’s desk, I ran to the classroom next door and asked that teacher, who was talking with Mrs. Helgeson, for some tape. She obliged and I ran back to the room.

Fully supplied, I carefully rolled out Miss July onto the podium, taped each of the corners and raced back to my seat.

As kids began to file in for class, each spied Miss July with her seductive blue eyes and full, pouty pink lips, posed in a fishnet bodysuit, her full breasts straining the crisscrossed threads as she laid on a chaise lounge.

Shock turned to stares and snickers. And everyone wondered:

Who hung the Playboy bunny?

I tried to feign innocence and nonchalance. Underneath, my nerves and belly popped like a fizzy drink.

The Prank

The final bell rang and in walked Mrs. Helgeson. I was so nervous that she’d notice something was off with her beloved podium and ruin the full effect. Fortunately, she went to her desk first and then marched to her usual place behind the lectern.

And that’s when the room erupted with laughter.

What I didn’t fully realize at the time, is that the taped position of Miss July aligned perfectly with Mrs. Helgeson’s torso so it appeared that she was splayed out naked in a fishnet bodysuit and red pumps. Even more perfect was that she shared the same curly mane and blue eyes as the Playboy bunny and her black tights stretched perfectly below the bodysuit, giving the eye a seamless visual line from top to bottom.

We tried to keep it together and stay serious as she began taking attendance, but the juxtaposition of the prim Mrs. Helgeson with the provocative Miss July made it impossible not to crack up. She didn’t flinch at the initial giggles but by the time she reached the M’s, the snickering had become riotous cackles, kids were pointing at her and we couldn’t even hear what name she was calling.

She stopped. She pursed her lips together.

“That’s enough,” she said, tautly. “What is so funny?”

We stared at the pocks and pencil marks on our desks, desperately trying to suppress a laugh. She surveyed the room methodically. I could feel her eyes on me. And I mistakenly met her gaze. A smirk escaped my lips.

She stepped to the side and then strode to the front on the lectern. She stood with her back to us, her feet glued together, her posture rigid. She didn’t make a sound. And then suddenly, she wheeled around.

The Accusation

“Mary Jo, come with me,” she said, walking out of the classroom.

Oh shit.

I slunk out of my seat, a chorus of, “Ooooooo,” and “Busted,” showering the air around me. I immediately began to run possible interrogation scenarios through my mind as I dawdled my way out the door.

“Mary Jo, did you put that poster on my podium?”

I raced through response options.

“What poster?” Stupid, smart assy, and for sure will point to my guilt.

“It wasn’t my idea.” Slightly better. Doesn’t fully admit guilt and leaves room to possibly throw someone under the bus.

“I didn’t want to, but [blurt out name here] forced me to do it!” (And then start to cry). Strong candidate. Allows me to accept wrongdoing, while making me a sad victim. And blame someone else.

“Yes. I know it was dumb. I don’t know why I did it. I was trying to make a stupid joke!” (Insert crying hysterics). Yes. Option 4. Will play to her sympathies (if she has any) and she’ll appreciate me owning up. Should increase my chances of avoiding severe punishment.

Before I could blurt out my chosen answer, Mrs. Helgeson said, “Before you think of lying, you were the only person who asked for tape this morning. What did you need it for?”

The tape. Of course!

Crap. I was busted.

The Confession

Left with no option but 4 anyway, I fessed up, but I couldn’t summon the tears. It didn’t matter. She didn’t seem to have detention in mind. Maybe my presumed innocent qualities persuaded her to view this as a minor, first-time infraction.

Mrs. Helgeson uncrossed her arms, pointed towards the classroom, and said: “Go back in, remove the poster and throw it in the garbage immediately. I am very disappointed in you. I’ll be telling your Mom about this, too.”

Eyes downcast, head slumped, I walked the path of shame back inside, purposefully avoiding the stares of my classmates. I gingerly pulled the poster off––I still didn’t want to rip it––and laid it in the trash can. This way, my classmate could still retrieve it if presented the chance.

The nudity expelled, Mrs. Helgeson tried to regain normalcy in the class but the visual of Miss July overlaid on her torso was seared in our young brains. Seeing anything else was futile.

From that day on, Mrs. Helgeson inspected her lectern with slight trepidation at the start of every class, positioning herself just off of center behind it. Nothing as exciting as that Playboy bunny ever appeared on that wooden tower again, but that April Fool’s Day was probably the most entertaining English class we had all year.

I doubt seeing a tasteful photo of a naked woman for those few seconds did anything to inch her conservative needle towards progression. She seemed to wrap herself in even higher-collared shirts after that day. But, pulling off that prank was worth having my angelic wings clipped.