The sinster limits of good pedagogy

I've been teaching at the college level for about five years now. Let me clarify that a little by explaining I've been teaching at junior colleges and universities for that long, and not giving a college-level lecture to a kindergarten finger-painting class. And while I'll be the first one to admit that this isn't an overly substantial period of time, and that therefore I have not seen everything in "the book" (whatever that malevolent volume might actually be), I like to think I've at least experienced the basics of the profession, along with the more common curve balls that are thrown--inevitably at the skull--of whoever happens to stand before a classroom and speak 2-3 days a week.

So when three of my students waited to speak to me after class the other day, I assumed they had a question about the lecture, or perhaps were unclear about some procedural issue from the syllabus. I am delighted (read: appalled) to reveal that this was, indeed, not the case. Rather, these students felt obliged to inform me that another member of the class, seemingly without scruple, had been mercilessly and quite continuously farting during lecture--enough so that the heady aroma of this person's gastrointestinal tract had become distracting to these unfortunate neighbors/victims. They corralled me after class to complain and beg me to "do something about it."

I was so taken aback by the situation, that I rattled off a placating sentence or two and sent them on their way, unwisely promising I'd try to remedy the situation. But what, I ask, can I do? My purview as instructor reaches no further than teaching the subject matter to my students, evaluating their performance in class, and maintaining some semblance of decorum during our time together so that the majority of students who want (and choose) to learn can. Personal hygiene is not something I should have to deal with, nor can I imagine broaching the subject with the suspect to be anything other than leaving yourself wide open for complaints to the administration, or at the very least, an extremely embarrassing conversation for everyone involved.

So what am I going to do? Pretend to forget about it on Monday, and should the issue come back, explain to these students that they may need to take the bull by the horns themselves and find a moment to talk to this kid. Or simply move seats. I, for one, will continue to pray that the ventilation in that classroom will continue to keep my nostrils free of that most oppressive aroma, or that should it not, I will have one of my dry-erase markers handy to shove up my nose. The minor brain damage should be well worth the trouble.