Bathrooms

Going to the bathroom in elementary school was a project. You had to wait for a good time to raise your hand because teachers would get mad if you asked while they were talking. Then you had to go to the back of the room and sign your name and the time you leave the room because no two kids could be in the bathroom at the same time. What started that? Did teachers think two eight year old kids were gonna smoke crack in the bathroom? One eight year old won’t smoke crack, but 2 eight year olds. NOOO. DO NOT LET THEM IN THERE TOGETHER! So then, as long as no young colleague of yours is using the facilities (i.e., waiting in the bathroom for one other person to start trouble with) you need to get the huge key – there wasn’t even a lock in school bathrooms, but they felt the only way to control these menaces was by making kids bring large objects to the bathroom that were impossible to lose. As a result, they give you a key attached to a brick, or a piece of driftwood with a key.

Whatever clever massive object they decide to give you, it always felt so gross touching it. What did Tommy “Pee Pants” do with it when he didn’t make it to the bathroom? Then you get to the bathroom and you don't know where to put before your begin the "operation." In elementary school, we didn’t have rolls of toilet paper. Instead, we had a tall stack of individual squares of toilet paper.  Honestly, it was like a stack of individually wrapped cheddar cheeses. So you’d sit down, do your business, and then you begin the cleaning process with individual squares! It was easier coloring in the lines back then than this process. I picked up like 12 squares and just tried to get some kind of surface area in my favor, but it never panned out like I hoped. Always rippage. The fear of every kid with individual toilet paper sheets. When your fingers break through the TP, that’s the only line of defense. Once the rippage occurs, crap on your hand. Now with crap on your hand, you’re just disgusted and pull up the Ninja Turtle underwear. So you take your crap-scented hands over to the faucet (head down, no pride), and there wasn't even liquid soap to wash it appropriately. You had to grind out your soap like a block of cheese.

Moral: Despite the terrible process of leaving the classroom, if you are ever bored in class, a walk to the bathroom is always warranted.