A Battle Lost, A Lesson Learned
When I was in second grade, I was a quiet, shy child. I wanted more than anything to follow the rules so that the teacher would like me. At my school each day began when the bell rang. At that time children would stop whatever game they were playing, foursquare, tag, or hide and seek, and then run to get into line. Once we were all in line, a leadership student would walk out with the flag, and together the entire school would recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Up and down, in a row in front of all of the classrooms, each student stood quietly with their hand over their heart, waiting for the signal to begin. Next, we all recited in unison: 300 voices all saying the exact same words at exactly the same time. Usually we sang a song at the end, too. There was one rule that every child, first grader or eighth grader, followed religiously: no one was allowed to talk or get out of line until the end the song.
One day in second grade, just I was about to visit the bathroom, I heard the bell ring. “Oh no!”I thought to myself, “I really have to go.” Worried about being late, I ran to get in line, and decided that I would ask my teacher to go to the restroom as soon as I was in the classroom.
It felt as if we stood there for years. I stared at the leadership student intently, willing them to start the pledge. I trembled as I tried to clench my legs and keep my overly full bladder from exploding. I stood as still as a rock, barely breathing. I was afraid that if I moved a flood would rush out from me.
Finally we had all recited the pledge and begun singing the National Anthem. “Hurry up! Hurry up!” I thought to myself, “I can’t take this much longer.” And then it hit: the flood. As I stood in line, a torrent of wet, warm urine began to drip, and then rush unrestrainedly from my tense body. I stepped slightly away from the child closest me, hoping they wouldn’t notice. I stood in line miserably,tears streaming down my red cheeks as my bladder emptied. I pressed my nails into my hands and then balled them up into fists, unable to move. A large, yellow puddle formed beneath my feet as little jets from the spray splashed up to soil my white socks.
I saw a few kids near the back of the line, where I was standing, turn to look in puzzlement at the puddle beneath me. I saw their large eyes and blank faces as they realized that I had wet my pants in front of the whole school. A few stepped gingerly away from me to avoid rivulets of urine that rolled downhill from me. No one said a word.
Just as my bladder emptied, the patriotic song ended and everyone began to march into class. As I came up to my teacher, I tremulously asked to go to the bathroom. I could tell by her face that she realized what had happened, but instead of acknowledging it, she gently murmured, “Yes.” Avoiding the stares of those who had noticed, I turned and carefully walked to the bathroom on trembling legsas my skirt swayed gently around me.
Inside the bathroom I cleaned up as much as possible, taking comfort that my skirt was dry and no spot showed. I cried and cried in the privacy of the stall, working up the courage to return to class. Finally, after many tears, I walked back to my now-quiet class room and slipped into my desk. I pulled out my reading book and stared down at my desk. I was afraid to raise my eyes in anticipation of an unkind smirk, or perhaps some whispered,teasing comment from a disgusted classmate.
To my surprise, no one near me said a word, although several childrenturned and smiled encouragingly at me. Everyone knew what had happened,yet I was grateful to discover that they all sympathized with my dilemma. In fact, during the entire duration of elementary school not one child, either friend or foe, ever broke the protective, healing silence that was gently draped over this humiliating experience. I soon realized that I was probably not the only person who had ever lost a hard-fought battle with their bladder!
As I half listened to the teacherthat October morning in 1965 as she pointed out the characteristics of fables, another part of my mind wandered, asking myself what else I could have done about that morning’s predicament. Although I was appreciative of my classmates’ kindness, I realized that sometimes, in an emergency, rules must be broken. I had no desire for a repeat performance and vowed to remember that the next time I found myself in such an unenviable position!