Posted by Accidental Tourist on October 06, 2000 at 12:18
In the spirit of HD Cleaner's reposts down lower, I wanted to share another good one from the Toilet at griot.net:
New poster
OK, I thought I ought to add to this site, 'cos I've been reading it for quite a while. I remember the main accident I had in my pants from primary school (=grade school) very clearly. This happened about half-way through the Infant I year (age 6 - second year of school). We had a student teacher with the class to get experience teaching little kids, and after lunch one day she took us out of our classroom, across the school and into the Junior part (ages 8-11), where we were to get to try making clay models in the art section. At the time, I was really shy about asking to go to the toilet, because I got embarrassed and thought I'd sound stupid. We'd just finished a big dinner, and I was quite full. We sat on long benches facing in towards the worktable, and I was next to the teacher. About 10 minutes into the lesson, I felt I started to need to do a pooh - I thought I'd be able to hold on 'til playtime anyway, as I usually could. I kept modelling the clay, but I felt the need to go getting worse and worse. After about 20 minutes more, I was really desperate, and ready to start thinking about asking the teacher if I could go, but I realised I didn't know where the toilet was in this bit of the school, and I thought I'd sound totally stupid if I had to ask. I kept holding on, and the urge alternatively eased off and then came back stronger, again and again. I started to feel a pain near my pubis, and I was really only concentrating on holding in the pooh - playing with clay only made me need to go more. I should have realised the pain meant I was never going to hold it in, but I just couldn't bring myself to ask, and I still thought the urge would pass and I'd make it to break - there was about 30-40 minutes left, and I hadn't needed it 20 minutes before, but I didn't realise this - the time just seemed to pass so slowly. I was sitting on the bench, just holding onto my pooh and getting up to the courage to ask to leave, when suddenly I just let go, and I felt soft, warm pooh oozing out all over my pants (white Y's as I recall). I didn't try to lever myself off the bench or anything, it just kept coming out whilst I sat there - I was a bity shocked, and I didn't know what to do. Eventually I managed to control it again, but I was sitting in an unbelievable pile of pooh. The teacher soon noticed the smell, and said 'Do you need to go to the toilet?', so I said yes and asked where to go. There was a single cubicle, so I went in and took down my pants. They were coated on every surface with semi-liquid, orange pooh. I sat down and did lots more into the toilet, and then (automatically) wiped a bit with shiny toilet roll, which came away absolutely orange. I never thought to do anything about my pants, 'cos the mess was so big there wasn't much I could do. I went back to the class and kept making clay stuff 'til the break, and the teacher didn't say anything. I'd got over the shock, and decided that the pooh was OK, 'cos I had been uncomfortable on the hard bench, and now it felt like I had a warm cushion. At break, I told some friends what had happened, and they were just interested because similar things had happened to them. Over the whole of break I'd started feeling I needed to pooh again, so at the end I was feeling desperate again and I went to the Infant I toilet. However, as I was standing in the entrance, I suddenly realised that if I was going to get into trouble for poohing my pants, I'd get into less trouble if I'd made a worse mess, as it would look more like I couldn't control it - I was very worried about what my parents were going to say. I also thought it'd be nice to have even more warm, soft pooh to sit in in the next lesson - so I just let it all out. None of it came out of my pants, but it was coating everything from the small of my back right round to the front of my stomach, and it squished around as I walked. I then spent the last lesson feeling comfortable, and I explained to my friends why I thought it had been logical to just mess myself again. Again, if the teacher knew what had happened, she didn't say - she knew how shy I was. At the end of the day, after I got home I was sitting on the settee, when my Mum smelt the pooh and asked if I'd had an accident at school. I said I had, so she took me off to clean and change - She wasn't cross with me. A day which had started to go badly wrong ended up turning out OK. After this, I realised how often people in class had accidents, and how worried they were, and they trusted me to tell if they had had an accident, as I'd help them out, as much as a 6-year-old could. I have several more stories about accidents like this, so I might post some more sometime. 'Til then, can more people try and post about how they remember having accidents when they were at primary/grade school? Most people either ignore accidents they had when they were very little or are embarrassed, but I managed it :) I've ! worked out at least 85-90% of people (especially blokes) had at least one accident on their way through school, so there should be lots of subject matter.