Wednesday, August 29, 2007

rinse. repeat.

I have a really good memory. I store lots of knowledge, some useful and some not. I remember a lot of things that happened when I was pretty young. I am glad I still remember this story.

I went to preschool at the same school that I went to for elementary, junior high, and high school. From being around 4 till 17 I spent most of my days at a private christian school. The original building was two stories and had a bunch of classrooms. In the middle was the playground for the kids in preschool, me.

In our classrooms we each had our own nap mats with our names on them. And we had coat hooks with our names on them. And we had clear boxes stacked high up out of reach with our names on them. Those held our emergency change of clothes.

My class had one set of teachers. The other classes had their own. There was this one teacher, man she was HOT! Tall, skinny, blond, gorgeous. (Funny how at 4 I already knew what was supposed to be considered attractive.) Knowing know about the hiring practices of the school, she was about 18-20 years old.

When I had recess and and her class hat nap time or some other activity I would stand outside and look into the window at her. Creepy. Then I would go run around and swing and slide and whatever, then go back and stare at her.

One day I was standing outside of her window and the urge to pee hit me. Like a ton of bricks. But I stood there. I crossed my legs and watched. I did what some have referred to as the pee-pee dance and watched. I pinched myself and watched. Then I gave in.

I pissed my pants.

And I stood there, watching. After a minute or so I went up to my teacher, feigning embarrassment, and told her I had an accident.

It was no accident. I knew I was going to, but I would rather stand there at the window and watch this teacher.

So I got to use my change of clothes. My pants had velcro instead of a zipper. I was awesome.

And a creepy bastard.

Now that essentially went on to repeat itself in very differing situations, no more piss, but definitely social awkwardness or discomfort, for the rest of my life. It still happens. And when I realize it, it makes me laugh.

7 comments:

Bobb said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Bobb said...

i went to the same pre-school. the only funny thing that happened to me there was when i called out the santa claus that came to our class as a fake, which would proved to be a microcosm for the rest of my life, too. i think it's interesting that neither of us has changed much since we were sleeping on mats in the middle of the day and playing with flintstones telephones. come to think of it, my life hasn't changed much at all.

Whit said...

18, eh?

This reminded me of a pee pants story. I should post it.

ImPerceptible said...

Are you trying to tell me you like to look in the windows of older women. Because if you do, I can leave the blinds on the side open...

I also peed my pants in KG. I was building a box out of popsicle sticks. Taking the time to walk down the hall to the BR was not a priority. And, at times, I still focus my attention on one thing at the exclusion of everything else. It's a good thing my kids can yell Mom! really loud.

I didn't think the story was creepy at all. I think it was sweet.

Amelia said...

That is very cute.

Every guy has the hots for his first teacher, or a teacher he knew when he was four or five. The first lady that you spent time with who wasn't your mom.

My husband's first teacher was called Miss Henry, and she was an angel from heaven, no arguments. I will never eclipse her.

Amelia said...

Also, the most passionate love letter I ever received was from a little Korean student when I was teaching English. He was eight.

It ended with:

"Oh, Amelia. I love you forever. You keep the promise, and I will keep the promise, too."

('The promise' was to exchange emails after he went back to Korea).

Bill said...

I used to just poop my pants and sit on my bike seat. Poop pancakes, that's what my parents called them.