true story

It was 2:55PM, Five minutes before the bell would ring and school to be over. Everyone in the room was a little antsy to get out of class on account of two main reasons; it was a beautiful 75 degree autumn day in September with the sun shining no wind, and because there was a substitute teacher. Mr. Hall had a very athletic figure with a barrel chest and strong voice. He was a retired football coach, who had nothing better to than be a substitute Horticulture teacher. Generally speaking he didn’t take crap from students, and would send someone to the principal’s office for any kind of trick that a student would pull on a typical sub. I was the only freshmen in this particular horticulture class due to scheduling reasons and was extremely shy and intimidated by Mr. Hall. Overall, it was a quite intimidating setup for a 5’2" 110 lb. freshman in a class with a bunch of older sophomores and juniors.
During the entire period, a group of sophomores in the back of the classroom were just begging to get the entire class in trouble. Mr. Hall was being particularly easy-going that day, on account of the good weather, but after the first hour he quickly dropped the “easy-going” aspect and announced that due to the disruption of class in the back of the room he was keeping us after school for an extra 5 minutes.
Right away this Announcement had scared me. The regular teacher, Ms. Witcomb knew about my frequent trips to the bathroom and generally was okay with it. Mr. Hall on the other hand, did not know. I had already asked if I could go to the bathroom once, and he replied with a shake of his head “That’s what your lunch break is for” and sent me back to my seat. At first I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, I hadn’t drank that much today and I could wait till the end of class and just run to make the bus ride home. However, by the time 2:30 had gone by I was getting really anxious for the end of class to come and get to the bathroom, when the announcement was made that we would be staying an extra 5 minutes after class, I panicked, knowing that that wouldn’t leave me enough time to get to the bathroom before the busses left the school. I raised my hand for the second time that day, as I was going to ask for a bathroom break but when Mr. Hall called on me in his naturally deep and loud voice, I backed out and instead asked him a question on a particular flower that we were studying that day.
2:57PM- Horticulture room
I begin to pack up my things ahead of time, as I’m done with the assignment and am bored of reading when I look up to see Mr. Hall standing over me.
“I did not say you could pack up yet, school is not out for another 8 minutes for this class”
I nod my head and push my backpack back under my desk trying not to think about the full bladder I have. Instead I focus on the clock for another 3 minutes. As 3:00 approaches and the bell rings, Mr. Hall announces “ok, everyone, lay you’re heads down on the desk, one peep and the whole class stays another minute”
As I lay my head down I try not to think about my almost bursting bladder and instead focus on the outside stomping of feet and slamming of lockers from the other students leaving the hallways, discussing evening plans with one-another. As the noise dies down I can again feel my bladder and I know that I don’t have very much time. If only I could make it to the bus, I think I could just sit it out for 15 minutes until I reach home where I’m safe.
“Okay, times up, you have just enough time to get to the busses, now go”
In an almost unison fashion, everyone gets up at once, throws their bags over their shoulders and exits the building, as soon as the last person gets up, I jump out of my seat and make a run for the bus. As I fast-paced walk through the hallway I can feel my bladder start to leak and think “C’mon, I just need to make it to the bus, and then I can hold it!” I hold my breath and start counting in my head, what I usually do when I’m racing to the bathroom, ignoring the fact that I have homework still in my locker that needs to be finished by tomorrow or that I left my sweatshirt in my English class and was going to pick it up after my last class. I could feel the warmth spread on my crotch and knew that if I leaked much more that people would be able to see, or smell me.
I can see the doors ahead, not much longer now; I think I can do this. As I pound open the doors, there is still a ton of students walking to and from their busses. I zig-zag through the crowd, my bus, number 32, in plain sight now, totally unaware of the catastrophe that awaits a few steps ahead of me.
Out of nowhere, a pack of wild fifth graders shoot past me, one knocking me off my tracks. I was alright, but all of a sudden I feel warmth between my legs. As I look down I realized that my bladder had finally give-in and I can feel the steady stream of pee as I am helpless to stop the flow. Soon a puddle starts to form on the sidewalk.
As I look around me, I can see students stop in their tracks to see what had just happened. I can feel them close in on me. I walk up to the bus, trying to escape the crowd, as I’m on the verge of tears by now. I’m about to step onto the bus when all of the sudden I can hear the voice of the bus driver.
“Stop Kimmi, not on my bus. You need to go down to the office and have a parent pick you up”
I felt like an unwanted toy. I had seen people treat animals with more sympathy than what I had just gotten. Not only did I have to walk past the gathered crowd, the office was located across the practice football field where practice was currently taking place. The color leaves my face as I slowly turn around and am redirected to the crowd of people around me. All of them staring at me as they slowly walk to their buses.
Tears start to fall from my eyes as I look down at my feet, hoping no one can see me crying. I begin to walk as fast as I can towards the office as I can hear the voices of students discussing the latest news to anyone who may have missed the shocking event. A small number of students were well aware of my weak bladder and frequent bathroom breaks, and even a smaller number of them knew about my bed-wetting, but none of them had seen me wet my pants; at least not since Elementary school.
As I pass more students knowing that I was getting tons of turn-around stares, I slowly approach the football field, and I can see the field full of players. I hope that I can pass them in the middle of a drill, but as I reach the field, the coach blows the whistle and I can see the players slowly walk to the drink station, coming right at me. I look down at my feet again, tears rolling from my eyes and walk past them. As I do, I can hear faint mumbling. “OMG, did she wet her pants?”, “Hey check this out.”
Not able to take anymore, I make a run for it to the office. By the time I arrive, I am out of breath, red faced, cold, and extremely uncomfortable.
I open the door of the office, thankful that I am now shielded from the embarrassment of any students, but nervous to let some of my favorite teachers see me like I am. Luckily, the first person I see is the secretary, Pam. She takes one look at me and immediately I can see her face fill with sympathy as as she asks “what happened?”
By now, all I want to do is go home and forget the whole thing even happened so I just reply “I need to call my mom.” Pam nods and picks up the phone, already knowing the number by heart, as she has dialed the number many times for various sick days or field trips that Ive had. As it rings she hands the phone to me and leaves the desk to give me a little privacy.
“Hello?”
In a small voice I reply, “Mom, umm can you come pick me up?”
“why? Where are you? Why didn’t you take the bus home?”
From there I attempt to explain the whole situation as I start crying again, recalling myself what had just happened. As she agrees to come and pick me up, Pam arrives back at the desk and I hand the phone back to her.
“She said she’s gonna come pick me up and she’ll be here in 10 minutes.”
“Ok Kimmi, there’s a towel right behind you, you can sit down if you’d like to” as she points to a box full of lost-and-found items.
I grab a towel and sit on a chair, still crying from the whole excursion as Pam hands me a box of tissues. Different teachers pass me to the lounge, some stopping to stare at me for a few seconds, others just pretending not to notice me, including Mr. Hall. I watch the clock and look out the window when I see a familiar gray van approach the school. I grab my back-pack and run out the door, now clear of most students, and hop into the van. My mom just shakes her head and replies “you need to speak up when you have to go to the bathroom Kimmi.” As I look at her, she realizes that I had witnessed one of the most tragic events in my whole life and doesn’t say another word for the rest of the ride home. I never heard another word from her about it. I spent the rest of the ride contemplating how I was going to survive the next day of school.

Re: true story

cool, thanks. anyway, ill explain my school setup to you. I went to a small school, each grade had around 20-30 people in it, and in the front of my high school is where all the busses met in one place so the couple of busses from the elemenatary school went to the high school and from there switched buses to the bus that would take them home. (Its confusing I know) the horticulture class I took I found out is no longer offered at my school but it was a teacher who was the Agriculture teacher, horticulture teacher and Floral Design Teacher. I guess it is sorta a strange class. MAybe I should have just siad Science class instead.hmmm, well anyway, thanks for the review

Re: true story

My school has K-12 in one location. Granted it is two different buildings, sort of, but in smaller or private schools is not uncommon. Our school also has some classes like horticulture as well. I think it was well written, kudos.