So, I'm about sort of mostly, kind of over it now, but let's just say it was my worst moment of my mortal existence. I have learned that 11 year-olds are really smart, especially the fifth graders at Marshall Elementary. They have an incredible memory for detail, such a memory, in fact, that they continued to bring up this incident in full detail all the way through my senior year of high school. I even switched schools, but I was "lucky" enough to run into several past Marshall graduates at XC events or choir festivals or the mall. Really, really lucky.
Here's the deal about my middle childhood. I was not a bad kid. And I know bad kids usually preface everything with that, but really, I was a nice, friendly, outgoing, snarly-haired girl. I never hit anyone or cheated on tests or stole things. I did, however, never have a report card from k-12 that did not at least one time mention the automated, "Needs to socialize less." I was the student the teachers moved around to the different tables every few weeks. Joke was on them, because I could even get the boring nerdy kids who wore straight leg jeans to talk about something. (This was the 90's when kids either wore Jnco jeans or stretch pants) But in the end, joke was technically on me because I received several lunch detentions ...and just a handful of visits to the Principal's office (so many blog posts, so little time).
After bribing several student council members to vote for me, I was elected to be student body president (take that Jordan Smith.). This glorified title meant I attended 2, maybe even 3 after school meetings where we picked out what assemblies to have. But the real reason I coveted this title: I got to MC these said assemblies--cordless microphone and all.
That morning I put on my best stirrup stretch pants and wore my white T-shirt with a large dog on it that loudly proclaimed: "Old Navy." It didn't even matter that it didn't match super-all-the-way, just the proclamation of my clothes being purchased from this newly opened store at Vancouver Mall would instantly reinforce my self-conceived coolness. I was obvs. so excited that day, because I never stopped talking in class and earned myself another wretched lunch detention. It was like prison. No talking, no recess (chasing around my beloved Kevin Zimmerman), and no bathroom pass.
All I remember was downing my chocolate milk then heading straight for the gym to fulfill my Student Body President duties. It's all sort of a blur, but I remember sitting on the side of the stage having to pee real bad. The speaker was suddenly all done with his presentation, and all the teachers, including our principal, Mr. Loop, all stared at me to stand up and get the microphone from this guy and dismiss everyone back to class. It was awkward, so I had no choice. All I remember was standing up and feeling a wet stream of warmth and embarrassment running down those stretch pants. Then a Kindergartner right in front of me shouted to my dismay, "She's wetting her pants!!"
Then I replied, "I know!"
This left me no option but to run out of the gym, cross MacArthur Blvd and all the way home. We only lived a block away, but still. It was dramatic.
Turns out this memory not only was glued inside my amygdala, but also into the memory of hundreds of students in attendance.
Ummmm..... so.... yeah. Joke's on me.
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