Mrs. Casillas and The Early Recess

This is a true story. As a matter of fact, it's one of my earliest vivid memories. It's pretty funny too. Enjoy.

I didn’t want to interrupt. Mrs. Casillas was in the middle of teaching us about some kind of math. I didn’t mind math normally. In fact, I really enjoyed math under any other circumstance but this one. I couldn’t concentrate on what she was teaching right then because my bladder was in the red zone.

Once I got over the idea of being away from mom for the first time, the next challenge was not wetting myself. In kindergarten, I learned to hold it like a pro since I only had to worry about half a day. First grade was different from kindergarten; it was a full day. But there was no way I was dropping my Brittania brand corduroy jeans to my ankles in some cold concrete excuse for a bathroom; there was a drain in the floor for crying out loud! Therefore, my other option was to hold it.

So there I sat in my molded plastic chair, squirming while I attempted to hold my urine until Mrs. Casillas finished teaching us about addition. Or subtraction. Or something. I couldn’t concentrate so I didn’t know what she was teaching. She just kept going. I was just hoping she wouldn't call on me to answer a question. I didn’t want to answer a question. I just wanted to run home and pee.

What if she never stopped talking? What if I had to hold my pee forever? What if I couldn’t hold it until she was done and I unleashed my lemonade all over my new corduroy jeans? Mom would’ve been so angry at me.

It’s doubtful the blonde girl in pigtails would have been very happy either. She and I had shared a desk since first grade started. She always seemed to want to borrow my pencil. She was using my pencil right then, as matter of fact, and oh my goodness I had to pee!

Crossing my legs seemed to make it worse, and the girl next to me was glaring at me fidgeting, so I had to do something. Then the perfect idea came to me.

Every time I went to the bathroom at home, no matter how well I used the toilet paper or how many times I shook my Optimus Prime, I still had a little bit of pee get into my underwear and sometimes even my pants. So my idea was to let a tiny little bit come out at a time and my clothing would absorb it just like it would that little bit of pee at home!

Why hadn’t I thought of this before? It was genius! Now it was time to put my plan into action.

I waited until I felt like I was going to explode before I attempted to relieve myself in short, controlled bursts.

However, upon releasing my bladder I discovered two things:

1.      I grossly overestimated my underwear’s ability to absorb urine.

2.      There is no such thing as short, controlled bursts when it came to peeing.

The concavity of the plastic chair contained the initial wave of the flood. However, I had a feeling the small chair was not likely to contain the second. As I sat in a rising tide of my own making, I had another brilliant idea. If I leaned back in my chair, the chair would probably be able to hold all of the warm yellow liquid I was expelling from my six-year old bladder!

I leaned back and prepared to savor my victory, forgetting entirely about the sizable hole in my plan. That hole being the rectangular one in the back of my chair. The one that was now eagerly creating a spectacular sunflower-colored waterfall that attracted the attention of Mrs. Casillas.

She stopped her lesson, sent the other children to an early recess, and tended to my needs as the newly saturated and now fully relieved first-grader I was.

At least I didn’t have to use that dirty, cold, concrete bathroom.