The classroom was quiet although full of students; the only sounds were made by a page turning, someone typing, or the occasional movement of a foot on the carpet as students worked individually on the task that had been set for them.

One boy sniffed noisily. I glanced at him, but he was too focused on his work to make eye contact with me. At the back of the room, another boy sniffed, gaining more traction so that his friend had done. I could almost feel the lump of whatever that was in my throat, and my stomach lurched. The boy at the front of the room sniffed again.

“Okay, guys… the sniffing has to stop. Did you know they make these squares of fabric called handkerchiefs, that you can use to clear your nose? They even make disposable ones, called tissues, so you don’t have to deal with them or their contents again later.”

“Sorry, Mrs V,” said the young man at the front desk, looking suitably repentant.

“Wait!” said another young fellow. “A tissue is a disposable hanky?”

“Well, yes.” I grinned at the obvious surprise on his face.

“I’ve never thought of it that way before!” Caught in the spell of his ‘penny drop’ moment, his eyes were wide and his smile was one of discovery and wonder.

“So, it’s your mind that has been blown, not your nose?”

He nodded, laughing along with his classmates, then returned to his work as industry and silence once again took custody of the classroom.