by Forest, Will
Christopher, on the verge of elucidating a legal context, changed his mind. He just shrugged his shoulders and kicked off his sandals.
As the woman walked away, Angela, Daphne, and Christopher overheard her conversation with her daughter:
“Mommy.”
“Yes, dear?”
“Is it true you don’t have to keep your clothes on outside?”
“I guess not always. Not ALL the time. Now, let’s get you dried off…”
Completely enthralled, Adam and his friends played until the sun went down. By the time the park closed, the CRM had gained two new adult members.
The Lesson of Exu
I don’t know, Dr. Ross. I don’t know what made me do it. It all seems pretty stupid now that it’s over. I’m usually a pretty laid-back kind of guy, and in the locker room with the track team I’m very casual with my body. My teammates and I are always joking about each other’s bodies. I guess what I know now is that I lost perspective in class. It wasn’t the big deal I made it out to be. The meaning of it all just wasn’t as big as it seemed at the time. I lost control and felt embarrassed. Actually I still feel bad but also I feel like accepting the responsibility for my over-reaction.
When I sat down with you and Dean Wishinsky, frankly I was relieved to be wearing clothes. That day that we discussed erections in class – somehow, it was too stimulating, and I just didn’t want to admit that. But as you now know, I “sprung a boner” in class. More accurately, my penis became erect, and that was pretty obvious since I had no clothes on at the time, and I felt I needed to hide it. You were talking about when the tip pulls back on a penis that hasn’t been circumcised, and I was never circumcised, and at that moment I felt like I had passed some threshold, and there was nothing I could do to stop the erection from coming on. I pulled my notebook down into my lap to cover it. I don’t know how many people saw me but I guess at least Daphne did, because she started trying to change the topic and then she got very direct about it.
I’m sorry, Dr. Ross, for putting your job in jeopardy. I think you’re a great professor, and it takes a lot of self-confidence to do what you did with this course. You’ve definitely put different ideas in my head about bodies. I guess I’m glad you suggested I write this journal entry to give more detail to what I said when I met with you and the Dean. What really surprised me was when the Dean said that I should just answer his questions with a yes or no. By the time he got to questions like, Did Dr. Ross say anything inappropriate directly to you, Did Dr. Ross physically touch you in any way, and Did you feel offended or did you feel embarrassed or both, it dawned on me that what had happened was not any kind of sexual harassment. I did feel uncomfortable, obviously, but I realized that it was not the result of any kind of active sexual innuendo towards me on your part or on anyone else’s part.
I realize now that the comments about the glans of an uncircumcised man being exposed in an erection were, in fact, related to the context we were discussing. I think I just felt frustrated and ashamed by my inability to control my own erection. It’s actually kind of funny, though, seeing as how I’m supposed to be learning about how an erection is perfectly natural, frequently uncontrollable, and should not necessarily be seen to jeopardize a nudist context. Old habits die hard, I guess. We’ve all been conditioned to what we believe by society around us as we grow up. It was helpful to meet with Daphne. She told me about her theory of “erection contagion,” which makes sense to me.
Please forgive my conduct. I have learned a lot in your classes, not least of all, this valuable lesson, the Lesson of Exu. It seems to me that the whole matter can be dropped.
Brian Chapman
Mutual Respect
Christopher Ross, once again clothed, stepped into the dean’s office. He hesitated a moment, remembering a day eight months ago, after the beach, the last time he had perched on the edge of the chair next to the dean’s desk.
The dean walked into his office from the adjoining conference room. “Dr. Ross,” he said, formally. “Please, have a seat.”
“Yes,” he answered calmly.
“You’re dressed.”
“Is that a problem now?”
“Okay, okay, just teasing.” The dean paused, enjoying the tension. “Congratulations, Christopher!”
“Thanks, Herb. And please, call me Chris.”
“Right. You are hereby notified officially that the college committee has awarded you both tenure and promotion to the rank of associate professor of philosophy.”
Dr. Ross released his anxieties in a prolonged sigh and an energetic handshake with the dean. “I’m so relieved, Herb! Were there any problems?”
“There was one dissenting vote. One out of seven. As you’d expect, your arrest last summer came up for discussion, but mostly to excuse it in context. The video was vigorously condemned, but I explained how the aftermath had crystallized a new pedagogy for you. And I explained that the beach photos were taken by a corrupt cop. I used your line about the nude beach not being a perverse erotic foray into the public sphere.”
“Thanks, but that was actually your line, not mine.”
“So, out of all this, your ongoing teaching methods were debated, with the result that all the committee members, except one, expressed their conviction that you, and Dr. Saucedo as well, are truly making positive and innovative contributions, specifically to the pedagogy of seminar-style courses but also, in general, to university life.”
“That’s almost unbelievable,” Christopher said, his heart in his throat.
“Now you know, of course, that the provost still has to approve the decision, followed by the president and then the board of trustees. But I think, even in your complicated and unprecedented case, that we can safely say that the provost supports you, and also one of the most outspoken trustees supports you. Probably the president does too.”
Christopher remembered his locker room meeting with the chief administrator.
“So, congratulations, your gamble paid off. Tenure and promotion for you, and a record twenty-eight majors for the now clearly viable philosophy department.”
“No, Herb—thank you. Thanks for your patience, and tolerance, and covering my back for a while there at the beginning. You took a gamble yourself, and I appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But, ah…so, no interest on your part, huh?”
“Oh. Well, I certainly respect your ideas but no, nudism isn’t for me. I’m just not comfortable with it. My skin is very sensitive and I’m rather glad I can protect it, if you will, with cloth.”
“Maybe someday, in the right context.”
“Maybe someday… The mural didn’t help.”
“The mural didn’t…the mural! What happened?”
“You haven’t been over the bridge lately, I see. I’m broaching a delicate subject. The students didn’t want you to find out so quickly… Someone—nobody knows who—painted clothes on the nudes in the mural.”
“What? Did you...see it?”
“I did. The clothes were painted realistically, I might add, with different colors and styles. This happened only two days after the students finished the mural.”
“There was a David in the mural, you know, Michelangelo’s David…what was he…”
“Someone had given him a…it looked like a yellow speedo, with brown polka-dots, I think. Oh, and your figure had received a complete tuxedo.”
Christopher rubbed his eyes, frowing. “How did you find out?”
“One of your students, Paul Hocker, discovered the defacement, and came to ask me what to do about it. I had to explain to him that since the mural had not been commissioned, or in fact even permitted, there was no mandate to protect it. Any student could continue painting there at personal risk of disciplinary action. He thanked me for my time, very politely, and left. The next day, the walls were completely white again, and I received an email message from Paul informing me that he and the rest of that CRM group painted ove
r the mural themselves rather than tolerate its defacement.”
“Were those his words?”
“Yes. And he asked me not to tell you or Angela unless I absolutely had to.”
“So why did you tell me now?”
The dean paused. “It’s a good question. Like I said, nudism’s not for me, but I respect what you’ve accomplished with the students. You really did bring us all back to a deeper, more fundamental idea of what a university can be. So, I just thought you should know what happened to the mural.”
“Well, thanks a lot, Herb! Thanks a whoopy hoopy lot! Maybe you could have tried just a little harder to defend it?”
“No, Christopher. Your great victory, greater than tenure, greater than viability, is that you loosed the nudes from the museum and induced them to movement. As a successful philosopher you refined our ideas about body freedom and individual liberty. But the respect gained for corporal rights must be reciprocated. The walls of the Humanities Building sustain that mutual respect. Choosing your own tattoo is one thing, but me branding you with a hot iron against your will is quite another. Let no one claim the exclusive right to paint the boundaries of our possibilities without discussion and consent.”
The newly tenured professor said nothing.
“Christopher?”
“Was that a prepared statement? Did you memorize that?”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m being serious.”
“So am I. That was a terrific piece of rhetoric, and I don’t mean political spin, I mean the ancient craft of speaking well. Nice job. In fact, it’s a shame what happened, but I appreciate your argument and I see your point.”
“I suggest we commission an official painting.”
“I’d like that idea.”
“I’m glad, Chris. I have a new respect for you, and I’m sincerely pleased we can find an opinion to share.”
Christopher put his arm around the dean. “Let’s find more.”
Shower of Joy
It was a rare spectacle: nudists enthusiastic about getting dressed. Skyclad people were filing into one of the phys. ed. classrooms and coming back out draped with black robes. Instead of the usual distribution of commencement ceremony participants into a robing area for graduates and another area for faculty, the CRMers had negotiated a “textile” area and a “nudist” area. Dr. Ross had convinced them not to refuse wearing the traditional robes at commencement since they could easily go naked underneath. Even the graduating hardcore CRMers—Lisa, Alex, Jacob, and Heather—had to recognize that they would have few if any more occasions in their lives to don their caps and gowns. Besides, they could party naked all they wanted after the ceremony, especially at the official CRM reception in the Humanities Building courtyard. In exchange, the CRMers had committed to a strict no-flashing policy. Dr. Saucedo reminded them that context is everything, and that flashing would harm the reputations of the CRM and the university.
The commencement ceremony, with its edgy air of dignity newly assumed by those unfamiliar with its trappings, offered few surprises. Many in the audience had no knowledge of the fact that several dozen of the graduating seniors, and more than a few professors, wore nothing beneath their caps and gowns. The guest speaker, a former UN ambassador and secretary of state, no stranger to the headlines, referred briefly to the CRM phenomenon as she finished her remarks: “And one more thing, graduates: go out there and reclaim the image!” The CRM students roared their approval, and to the great relief of the CRM faculty, resisted the urge to fling off their robes or perform some similar act.
The auditorium foyer filled quickly with exuberant graduates posing for photos with their favorite professors. Christopher knew he would meet the CRM graduates and friends at their own reception across campus. He spotted Angela at a punch bowl, and as he threaded his way toward her through the crowd, he saw, standing together for a brief moment, his three supervisors: the ursine provost in his porkpie cap; the dean, with his thin, ophidian smile; and the chair: sleek, taut, ready to pounce. Wood and Water, Wind and Tree, he thought he heard distinctly floating on the soundwaves of their conversation. Wisdom, Strength, and Courtesy, they seemed to be chanting to the graduates, already departing the halls of learning. Jungle-Favour go with thee, Christopher muttered in Angela’s ear, squeezing his arm around her waist to lead her through the crowd.
“Okay, nature boy, are you taking me where the wild things are?”
Christopher pinched Angela’s left buttock through her academic robe, sliding the thin nylon between his thumb and fingers, back and forth over her firm flesh.
“Let’s go assess the substance of your…humanity.”
“Later. We have a reception to attend, remember?”
***
When they exited the arena into a persistent drizzle, many graduates found the caps and gowns to be a boon against the wet. But the CRMers, once they made their way to the Humanities Building courtyard, unburdened themselves of their academic garb and danced, jumping and shouting, in the rain. Their parents and families knew to expect this, and a few of the visiting family members and friends undressed and joined in. But most of the parents decided to move out of the rain, into the long, ground-floor hallway in the south wing of the Humanities Building.
Dr. Saucedo felt a little awkward in her cap, gown and academic hood, wanting to preserve a tradition of respect at the moment of meeting her students’ parents, but also to express her joy naturally and in the way to which these same students had become accustomed. She decided to leave her regalia on, since it was all that covered her except her shoes. But she unzipped the robe halfway, from the bottom up—as is usually the case with academic robes—to just below her breasts. Stepping inside, she promptly recognized Lisa’s parents from the commencement ceremony. Their daughter’s flagrant nudity out in the courtyard pained them, as did the tentative partial nudity of their younger, high-school-age son Nicholas, which was becoming less partial and less tentative by the minute.
Dr. Saucedo introduced herself. “Lisa has been an excellent student. And I think she has taken on something of a leadership position among her peers. It’s been a pleasure to see her confidence increase.”
“Well, that’s very nice of you, Professor Saucedo,” said Mrs. O’Keefe, putting down her punch and cookies while making an effort to speak calmly. “But I’m sure I’m not the first to say that I just don’t understand what exactly you’ve been teaching here. My daughter has always had high grades and good self-confidence, but now when she goes to get a job she’ll have to fight the stigma of having posed nude for a calendar.”
Angela chose her words carefully. “Have you seen the calendar? It so happens that Lisa’s is the only pose shot from behind. Her face isn’t visible, so she isn’t easily recognizable. Now, if you still want to divulge that she posed nude for a calendar, that’s one thing. But if you say she showed extraordinary self-confidence by modeling nude for a fund-raiser calendar, that’s quite another. And the calendar is just one part of all the work she’s done – in my course, and also for the Corporal Rights Movement. I know she’ll be able to find the words to let her résumé speak for itself, and any letter of recommendation she may need from me will be similarly phrased and a great pleasure to write.”
Mrs. O’Keefe glanced down her nose at Angela’s exposed pubic hair. She forced a smile at Angela but spoke to her husband. “Please go see if you can convince Nicholas to put his clothes back on.”
Angela bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying what she wanted to blurt out to the woman, that she should lighten up, that she should try liberating her breasts instead of strait-jacketing her offspring. Through the hall window streaked with raindrops she watched Mr. O’Keefe approach Nicholas, who was now completely nude and standing near Lisa with a group of her friends, all of them shiny wet in the courtyard. Nicholas did not seem ready to put his clothes back on. Determined to have a few moments with Lisa, Angela made a move toward the door to the courtyard.
�
��Don’t,” said Mrs. O’Keefe. “Don’t ruin this day any more for us. You’ve done what you did, now leave us alone.”
Dr. Saucedo cried freely as she marched out into the courtyard. But as she drew further away from Mrs. O’Keefe and closer to Lisa, her salty, frustration-born tears diluted gradually with the rain, becoming a freshwater shower of joy. She opened her arms and drew Lisa’s slippery humanity to her, wrapping her in her opened robe.
“Congratulations, Lisa! I’m so proud of you!”
3
JUNE
SUMMER
June
Clothing-Optional
(AP) RALEIGH, NC. June 6, 2009. The Institute for the Study of Cognitive Development has released its long-awaited report on recommendations for a complete overhaul to the American education system. The controversial report focuses on improved health as the single most important factor leading to accelerated or augmented thinking skills. Specific health benefits recommended by the ISCD that would affect the typical schoolday routine include frequent nutritious snacks, catnaps, mandatory exercise, plenty of water, and social nudity. This last recommendation, based on research carried out in Sweden by Gulf Coast University education professor Angela Saucedo, is openly acknowledged by the ISCD to be unrealistic in today’s society. But this did not stop the authors of the report from urging, in their words, “quick, forceful steps toward the revolutionary act of making schools mostly clothes-free zones. The benefits to student learning are overwhelming.”
ISCD Director Calvin Wilson stressed that the report does not recommend changes to school curricula. What it recommends are changes to school schedules and classroom environments to better facilitate learning.
“I like the part about snacks and naps,” said Myra Bindy, eighth-grade English teacher at Daniel Boone Middle School in Raleigh. “You know, people joke that it sounds like kindergarten, but I bet it really would help even the older students to focus on learning more efficiently. But the naked part, that just sounds crazy. Off the wall. I wouldn’t do it.”