David S. Clark
ENG-120
January 25, 2012
My Biggest Embarrassment
It was early fall, somewhere around the month of October, when the leaves have their
peak season of colors. I remember the day like no other. It was the kind of day that one
usually watches out for, as if something could-go-wrong kind of day. At that time it was the late
70’s ,and we wore uniforms to school. We dressed in dark blue pants, light blue shirt, and a
clip-on tie with the schools initials on it. Although I was eight years old then: it seems like
yesterday.
My mother, on her way to work, dropped both my brother and me off at the, “Uniformed
Private School Institution” (they will get no advertisement from me). The kids flocked into the
school yard by the hundreds. I had very few friends at that time, and this particular day’s events
made it so I had none, or at least it sure felt that way.
The bell rang, and all of us young ones up to eighth grade, lined up to head into class.
The morning went well to my recollection with the normal reading and writing exercises,
arithmetic and so on. Morning recess came, and at that school, it may as well have been like
prison yard time.
None-the-less it was a break from class. I was not all that energetic that day. I didn’t run around
outside or play ball with anyone, it was just a quiet day, or so I thought.
We headed back into the classroom and got back into more reading and spelling
exercises. Back then, I hated raising my hand in class for any reason whatsoever. I was just a
quiet kid at that time, but suddenly I had a big problem,………… I had to go to the bathroom.
I recall enjoying drinking at the water fountain; I thought it was the best thing, anything
to stall getting back to class.
Soon I have a dilemma, sitting there in my seat not knowing what to do,
or at least not knowing how to handle the situation. So I decided to just wait till lunch recess; this
was a bad move.
I tried to focus on what was being taught, but then, out of sheer will power, I raised my hand.
The teacher was just as surprised as I was to see my hand go up, but it had to be done. She said
“What is it David?” “May I go to the bathroom?” I replied. She responded with a disgusting look
and said “No, you should have gone during recess; you will have to wait till lunch time” I
already knew at that moment that the situation was not in my favor or best interest at all.
I did the typical thing of trying not to think about it for a few more minutes, but no such luck.
Once again with more boldness I raised my hand. Another strange look came from whom now
was an instrument of human torture. I spoke again and said, “May I please use the bathroom?”
then came another cold response but sounding more angry than the first time; “No, you have to
wait” she said.
I was no biology major to say what was going on inside, but this was really starting to
get painful. I could focus no longer on the schoolwork anymore; I merely focused on the pain;
prolonging the inevitable.
Then as I sat, the worst of my fears began to unfold, or release should I say?
It was over, while sitting at my desk. There was relief for my bladder! The volume was plentiful
considering all the water I had drunk before recess. As I sat there, I remember feeling as if the
world was about to come down on me for this act. It wouldn’t take long until the young
child in front of me heard the urine dripping on the floor. He turned around, looked at me, and I
was horrified. He spoke out loud, “Hey this kid’s peeing on the floor!” Everybody turned around
and laughed at me. Embarrassed and scared, I sat there.
More frustrated than ever, the teacher then shouted at me, “Go to the bathroom!” I
remember thinking to myself, ok, so now what? She pointed her finger straight at the door;
she was furious. I got up and went down the hall heading to the bathroom. On the way there I
saw the old janitor. He looked at me and said, “Had an accident, huh?” “Yes”, I replied. But only
this was no accident. This could have been prevented if a little compassion had come into play.
I went back to the classroom. By this time, the mess was all cleaned up, so I was able to
take my seat again. My last and final problem was urine soaked clothes. I sat in those
clothes enduring a fowl stench that could reach to high heaven. No phone call was made to my
parents or anything. I stayed like that for the rest of the day, and no one spoke to me at
all. Lunch recess came and all I got was a gathering of people laughing at me.
I remember those days in the “Uniformed Private School Institution”, and how hard they
were for both my brother and I. Now they are just memories. I remember all the names of the
teachers and the janitor as well. The most important lesson for me though is this; forgiveness.
I don’t harbor any bitterness at all. In the end, I believe some people just don’t know what they
are doing. I can extend grace and look back at this and laugh at myself, and how people
responded that day. Some would say I should be scared by that incident. I look at it as way
to show people one of the many ways I can practice forgiveness. I know that from her
perspective she was trying to teach discipline, I wonder how she feels about that now, I may
never know. Back then I felt embarrassed beyond my worst fears. Today I can say that I would
rather laugh at myself, and some of the things I did when I was young, this way the very intense
moments of the past don’t have any power over me.
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