So, last Wednesday, I was teaching S3 - quite a new class of twenty or so 8, 9 and 10 yr olds.

About halfway through my riveting explanation of family members via a hastily drawn family tree (or crooked bush to be truthful), I noticed that fat, rather dim, but very sweet Tim seemed to have developed itchy thigh disease. As he was sat against the back wall in the middle he was directly in my line of vision.

Unperturbed, I carried on until two minutes later. When casting another cursory glance his way, I realised that the itch he was scratching was less thigh-based and far higher up than first suspected. I stared a little more and my worrying assumption was proved correct. Under his desk, the little tyke was pulling his plonker out through the leg of his shorts for all he was worth.

The next two minutes consisted of me humiliating the boy in front of all his classmates by sticking my finger through my fly, waving it around and exclaiming 'My name's Tim!'. I don't think he'll traumatise me like that again.