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Zen and the Art of Real Estate Investing with Jonathan Greene

I Peed My Pants in 8th Grade

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I peed my pants in 8th grade.

I can still see her wavy black hair and the glasses that shielded her malevolent eyes. I can still feel the warm unstoppable hydrant that I couldn’t cap. I can still hear the sound of my corduroys rubbing the skin off of my inner thighs on the walk home.

Millikan Junior High seemed like an unsolvable maze to me. It mirrored a generic housing development with rows of similarity. There were not bathrooms at the end of every row of classrooms. They were every fourth or fifth row and not well marked to the untrained, Brooklynite in L.A. eye.

In the beginning of the year I would often search way too long to get somewhere and end up right where I started. I used to have nightmares about it. Being late for class. Not being able to find the right classroom.

8th grade was awkward enough, I was never going to ask a random stranger where the bathroom was.

Science Class

I entered Science class with Ms. Kallman that day with the best intentions. “Best intentions” meant that I wasn’t going to ask any questions, pay attention or do anything, in any way, to draw attention to myself. Little did I know I would soon make that impossible.

It was a very hot day in the San Fernando Valley and Science class was dragging like a toddler behind a parent who didn’t get all eight things he wanted in the checkout line at Target. We were about halfway through class when I realized that I had to pee.

I thought I could make it until the end of class, but it crept up on me with fifteen minutes left. I finally raised my hand to ask to go to the bathroom, which was tantamount to pulling down my pants on stage in front of the whole school because I was so shy. And didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Especially about having to pee. Asking any question in class that overtly involves your genitals doing something was worse than another Halloween sequel to me. Ms. Kallman said no.

Decisions

This is a moment in my life that I have recounted to my children many times. — the balance between listening to your teacher and taking care of yourself. No teacher should ever restrict a child from going to the bathroom. It’s cruel. I didn’t have a history of 20 minute bathroom breaks or a documented resume of in-school pranks. I was a new kid who had to take a piss.

I was unsure exactly which row of classrooms I was on, so finding the bathroom was going to be an issue either way. Even if I got out, could I even find the bathroom? Anxiety set in and the pain in my loins became unbearable. I tried to focus on the clock, anything else besides the impending dam break of urine that was building every second.

Right outside the classroom was a small tree. I fixated on this tree. Should I go right outside and pee on the tree? At least I know where it is. One of the best things to do at a new school would be to expose yourself to the whole class and urinate in full view of them. But I considered it. Because I knew the other option.

Time

Tick, tick, tick. The clock was moving slower than William “Refrigerator” Perry running the 40 with a piano on his back. I never asked to go to the bathroom a second time, as I was already embarrassed about the first rejection.

I writhed back and forth in my blue chair with the three air pockets in the back, for comfort, and hoped that I would make it. The pain was reaching a point I had never felt before. It was unthinkable that I would pee in my pants, in class, in 8th grade.

It Happened

With about a minute left in class, the dam broke and my body and chair filled with warmth and disgust. Ms. Kallman was still talking while my chances of making friends poured out of me along with the urine.

This was no regular pee, it was a raging river’s worth. It was relentless and I was no match for its fury. I sat there, thinking of any possible scenario where no one would know I peed in my pants in 8th grade Science class.

The bell rang which provided a modicum of relief. But how would I even get up? I wasn’t a little damp. I was sopping in my blue corduroys. I waited until everyone left class and then got up gingerly. Ms. Kallman was gone. She probably realized that she was the reason I would write an angry blog post about her 35 years later.

I turned back to notice that there was a small pool of pee still in my seat. I kept walking without taking note if any had reached the ground. Since it felt like I peed for eight minutes, this was a likely scenario. Great news though — there was still over half the day left.

The Day Goes On

A lucky break for the day was the fact that I still did not know how to dress in the Valley. Complementing my sweet cords was a hooded sweatshirt. I can’t remember the actual temperature that day, but I can say that it was too hot for my outfit.

My inability to dress yielded me the possibility to hide the horror that played out in Science class. I removed my cloak and tied it around my waist. I donned it forward for a time and even backwards for a time. Yes, backwards, meaning I tied the sweatshirt around my waist covering my front. Stylin’.

The bigger problem was that after the school day, I still had to walk home in the hot sun, thirty minutes, with pee cords.

So I started out on my trek, hoping for once that my stepfather did not swing by to pick me up while I was walking home. The sound my legs made as they rubbed against each other was unpleasant to say the least. It was akin to nails on a chalkboard, but if those nails were your thighs dry humping each other with reckless abandon. The sun beat down on me while I struggled to carry my backpack home with the added weight I gave myself during the day.

I made it home and put my clothes in the laundry. No one ever said a word, either at home or at school. I don’t remember the sight or smell being that noticeable, but how could it not have been?

I went the second half of an 8th grade day with pants drowned in urine. I went to the rest of my classes with a sweatshirt covering my crotch. I have no idea if anyone ever knew what happened, but at least I left a puddle of a memory for Ms. Kallman.

20 Responses

  1. Yes Catholic primary schools are worse the teachers don’t let a child go to the loo, this was 1960s worse was after leaving the teacher a puddle on the floor my mother blamed and scolded me when l could have gone to the loo but strict teacher stopped me!!! Now at 61 years of age l have a complex about this and glad super markets and pubs have public toilets.

  2. Wow, that brings back memories ….. high school prom, new 3 piece white suit …… the fly on my pants got stuck. In the bathroom in a stall I struggled desperately to make the fly work, the anxiety and need overtook me …. there I was in the stall, totally wetting my pants. An obvious big puddle formed, visible to the main bathroom. I suddenly heard; "The dude is wetting in his suit". I finally had to leave the stall and all the guys in the bathroom saw my wet white pants.

  3. I have an extremely similar story to yours. While I don’t remember it as vividly as you seem to, I was for some reason afraid to raise my hand. I looked at the clock like you and suddenly my bladder just gave in to the pressure. I sat there hoping no one would notice, and I’m honestly not sure if anyone did or not but there was a gigantic puddle of pee surrounding my desk. I remember that the teacher eventually noticed, sent me to the nurse where they gave me a change of clothes and I dreaded every moment. I don’t feel like I was treated very well by the teaching faculty and they viewed me as some dumb kid I guess, but that compounded my anxiety to the point where I just wanted to get home and hide away from everyone. It was one of many moments that set the stage for my social anxiety and subsequent self isolation. Sometimes I randomly remember one of these many embarrassing school moments where I succumbed to some seemingly uncontrollable bodily disaster and I still don’t know why I handled the situation the way I did, but It assuredly led me down a very lonely road.

    1. That’s the worst – sorry to hear that Ryan. It was the same for me. I don’t know why a teacher would say no to going to the bathroom and I had asked. It can have a much bigger effect on us than they think. Thanks for reading!

      1. Oh absolutely! The effects can last a lifetime. I too thought "hey I maybe nobody will notice?" If I had moved slow, and been the last one out of the classroom? But I was so mortified I started to cry and that gave everything away.

  4. Well. It happened to me also. I am in 10th grade now. I remember peeing in the computer lab in the 8th grade. I don’t know whether my classmates know about this. But I feel embarrassed now too. sed.

  5. I had a similar experience to you… or three, when I was in school. Well, some differences – like all 3 of my accidents happening while walking home from school, and that I’m in the UK, and we have school uniforms (my school trousers were black, which turned out to be useful…)

    I used to hold it all day without a second thought, while drinking several drinks through the day. I’d usually only feel the need to go towards the end of the day, or while I was already walking home – and I usually made it. There were a few times I never made it out of class ‘dry’ after being denied permission to go the toilet. But those were always small leaks and never full blown accidents.

    These 3 times were all ‘full blown’ accidents, however. Once because I couldn’t get my keys through my front door in time (would have been in year 7 / 12 years old).

    The second time would have been when I was 14 and I was slowly walking home in torrential rain. That meant that nobody was really around except for me. I was bursting by the time I got half way home and only had to make it through this large park, as my home was just on the other side. When the rain started pouring heavily, I stopped to zip my coat up. The coat jammed and I was having a real hard time keeping still while trying to fix it. I lost my patience and ripped my coat zip off and seconds later I realised my small fit of rage also made me lose control of my bladder. That time I could only feel the warmth, but couldn’t really see or smell anything, given that I was already covered in – and smelled of – rain.

    Then the last time was when I suddenly needed to go quite badly at the end of an Art lesson in Year 11 (15/16yr olds). It was the end of the day and like clockwork, my body was ready to go, but this time quite badly. I would have probably been fine if I could have left on time and carried on walking all the way home before going. The problem was that I was stuck there, in my seat, feeling only one thing – my bursting need to pee. The teacher had no control over his class, who weren’t necessarily badly behaved to begin with. Keeping us behind and looking down on us with his arms folded, reciting the age old line "the bell doesn’t dismiss you – I DO!" was one of his favourite moves to pull. I’d asked him to go in the last half hour but his response was to wait. Yet he chose to add an extra 15 minutes on top of that waiting time, which proved too much. It didn’t happen in front of others, and happened slowly – almost to the point where I couldn’t feel it. I remember a small dribble on my seat, which I quickly wiped away with my school jumper sleeve. As I walked out of the school with the other students, I kept pressing on my bladder to see if I needed to go, but felt nothing. Then I stopped as I got outside to take my jumper off as it was roasting hot weather. I felt my damp pants so assumed I must have done it without realising, so just started walking home after everybody else. 5 minutes later my pants were dry again, such was the intensity of the sun. Then I felt this unprovoked, uncontrollable piss suddenly burst out as I waited to cross a road. Standing stationary is definitely what caused it!

    But apart from those incidents, I had pretty good control and still do! Although, it did happen a couple times on my walk home from work in my early 20’s, and I’m only 28 now so I guess it could happen tomorrow if I was unlucky enough! I should also add that I’ve never been caught by anybody afterwards, despite smelling of it and being covered in it. As I say, I think black trousers have hidden special features lol

    1. Age 15. I thought I was the only one to do it that late. Teach wouldn’t let me go during last class, late in the day. After seeing me squirming with tears in my eyes she finally relented and let me go. The bathrooms were all the way down at the opposite end of the building and by the time I got there I was pretty much finished. I had to walk home like that and got scolded by mother. It was humiliating.

  6. The same thing happened to me (A few times). The first time was when I was in math class and checked the clock. It was around 1:30 pm. I asked the teacher to go to the bathroom but she said no. I didn’t ask to go again, too embarrassing. I sat there for ten minutes and then felt some pee drip onto my chair. I’m usually able to hold it but I actually stayed hydrated.
    So I sat in my chair and, for the next two minutes, TWO FULL MINUTES, I just peed. Like you, it was steady. Sadly, the whole class saw.

    The next time was different. I had to go and my class was outside and could not go back in. Some pee trickled down my leg and so I ran over to a tree where I thought no one would see me and I peed. Then I realized two kids in my class had seen it and RECORDED it! My shame was at a peak.

    The next time was when I got detention and I was literally bending over and holding my junk I had to pee so bad and I just gave up and peed in my pants when no one saw, but there was a lot so I stopped and literally peed IN THE CORNER OF THE ROOM when the teacher was not there. SHAME.

  7. I was in year 8 and it was lunchtime with my friends and at the time I was embarrased to go to the bathroom infront of my friends so I held it like normal. (I pee myself when laughing so much its bad and ive even done research on how to stop) But me and my friends where walking and we started laughing and my friend hit my stomach and i started feeling the trickling down my legs it was so embarrasing I tried to hide it as my where laughing but one friend said "(my name) PEED!!" I literally wanted to cry my eyes out. It felt like a dream, I wish it was a dream. I made up some story saying whenever I get my period I pee a bit but I ran to the bathrooms so red in the face. Then my friends decided to wait outside to make sure i was okay. And one friend came in saying do you need some socks or underwear. Which made me so embarrased I felt like I was a kid. I just said I needed a pad and that I got my period and it wasnt pee but I wanted to cry. I didn’t talk to my friends or go to school for 2 days.

  8. Same thing happened to me in both 6th and 7th grade, except I don’t think I even asked the teacher. I was too scared and paralyzed to even raise my hand. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you sharing this. I’ve always felt completely alone in this profoundly unpleasant experience, and just knowing I’m not alone is kind of a big deal.

  9. I was a senior in high school on my way to play football at another school. We were required to wear jackets and ties or suits for away games. I wore a real nice silver gray suit. The kind that gets real dark when wet. Someone slipped me a fluid pill. We had a water drinking contest probably to fill me with water. Well, halfway there, I had to let go in my suit pants. Total flood and a huge wet stain

  10. Like someone else has said, it’s good to know I was not the only one in this club. I had more than one of these accidents during my school years but the most humiliating of course, were the one’s that happened in the later grades. Fortunately not all were so noticeable. But, like you, one was in class during detention, at age 13. Way beyond the time when kids usually do this. I remember being shocked. Then after what seemed like a long time, I started to cry. The teacher got angry and some of the other kids were, shall we say, very unkind. It still makes me uncomfortable to think about it today. Thanks for opening up and letting me open up.

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