Tales of a Third-Grade Nothing

When I was in third grade, the “Are you a virgin?” question was incredibly popular among the cool kids. (Two quick side notes: 1) I went to a private school with no more than 30 people in a grade, “cool” is incredibly relative. 2) From what I hear, this question still makes the rounds in elementary school. Based on what I see on “Dateline: Undercover at Spring Break,” I would have thought there’d be far more scintillating inquiries in schools these days.)            

This is basically how it went:            

“Hey, X!” Giggle, giggle, giggle.          

“Yeah?”            

“So,” giggle, giggle, giggle, “Are you a virgin?” (You have to imagine that last part as VER-jin in Southern tween.)            

If X said “no,” lots more giggling and mockery ensued. If X said “yes,” it was time to move onto the next target. (In third grade, unlike eleventh grade, you got made more fun of for saying that you weren’t a virgin rather than for saying that you were.)            

I have no idea why this game was popular—other than the fact that “virgin” counts as a naughty word when you’re nine—but I do know the worst answer of all was to respond with, “I don’t know, what’s a virgin?” Because, of course, if you didn’t know what a virgin was, you were soooo immature and unworldly.   

I was asked the question in the hallway outside the class room one day before lunch.            

“Hey Laurel, are you a virgin?”            

“Of course,” I said in one of my rare moments of confidence, “I’m only in the third grade. I’ve never been married.”            

(I’d asked my mom what a virgin was. She told me it was someone who had never been married. I admit that it was a good answer on her part. It just never would have stood up to the scrutiny and torment of intent pre-teen girls.)            

The teacher made us stop talking to go to lunch at that point—something I’m forever grateful for. Somehow in a terrain with three expected answers—two of which were sure to bring scorn, I’d managed to find the unchartered territory of a fourth answer. And I’m pretty sure that having the wrong idea about what a virgin is would be far worse than having no definition at all.            

It was just one of many, many times to come that I’d welcome the distraction of an upcoming meal.