We sat, crowded into the gym turned makeshift movie theater, Trapper Keepers in our laps, staring in wide-eyed terror at the screen as a fetus emerged from a screaming woman's vagina.
I shuddered, hoping that wasn't the predetermined fate of every mother giving birth, and scanned the faces of the kids sitting around me.
Each one bore his own special brand of fear: cringing, pinched up faces, fear evident in clenched fists and crossed arms. A single tear of horror rolled down my cheek as I tucked my elbows in so as not to touch the boy sitting next to me (who happened to be my fifth grade crush).
What started off as a co-ed room slowly segregated to boys vs. girls. I didn't want to be near anything that could make that happen to me.
I never wanted to touch boys ever again.
All this debate about teen pregnancy... I'll tell you how we bring that statistic down: make every fifth grader watch The Miracle of Life.