Have you ever been so embarrassed that you want to wear a paper bag over your face? Have you ever wanted to travel back in time to fix the embarrassing things that scar you for life? A few years ago I had an accident, a big accident, one that has scarred me for life.
It was a warm, sunny Spring day at Ishikawa Elementary School with birds chirping, adolescents laughing, and pedagogues humming show tunes. I left my home room and walked into Room 101, Mr. Overstreet’s classroom, for accelerated math. As a daily visitor to Room 101, I had been assigned to sit in what was normally Maddie’s seat while she attended math in a different classroom. Feeling as cool as ice, I saluted my friends and made my way to Maddie’s desk, next to Brock and Cayman. I flopped down in the blue chair feeling the strap of Maddie’s backpack underneath me. I was caught up in my thoughts. I felt on top of the world because during lunch all my best guy friends had invited me to play football with them.

Mr. Overstreet started class with a warm-up and then informed us we would be taking a multiplication timed test. Fear gripped me. “Oh no!” I exclaimed to Cayman.

“What is it?” He replied, confused.

“I didn’t study for the test and I don’t know any of the multiplication facts!” I cried to him nervously.

“That stinks for you,” he laughed as only an obnoxious fourth grade boy can.

As the test was placed before me, nerves seized control of my body. The test began with the click of a timer. Numbers were running through my head. I was dizzy and my brain malfunctioned.
Then, it happened.
I felt a warm sensation slowly spread across my mid-section. To my shock and horror, I was sitting in a puddle of warm urine! The strap of Maddie’s backpack was soaked and little streams of clear liquid were running down my legs and the legs of the chair. “Had I actually just peed my pants?” I thought. I rushed over to Mr. Overstreet with tears in my eyes. He was very sympathetic and sent me off to the nurse. My Mom rescued me from the scene of the accident and the only real casualty, Maddie’s backpack strap, was replaced the next day. I am not sure if the chair was quarantined and exterminated.
The moral of this story is never pee your pants, it will scar you for life. I often ponder back to that sunny 4th grade day and wish I would’ve raised my hand to go to the bathroom. Now, five years later, every time I see a multiplication fact, I have the sensation to urinate.