The First Day of Third Grade I could feel the judging eyes of my classmates following me as I walked from my seat to the door. I could feel my cheeks turn beet red and my eyes fill with tears as I tried to salvage my dignity. It was the first day of third grade, and I had just pooped my pants… for the second time. While at the time I wanted nothing more than to just disappear, it is an event that has played a pivotal role in shaping my personality by teaching me that all things that seemed so big in the past eventually become irrelevant and forgotten. It was 6 o’clock in the morning, and I was bubbling with excitement as I prepared for my first day of third grade. After breakfast, however, the excitement slowly ebbed away and was replaced with a new feeling. Cramps.
However, this being the first day, my mother didn’t believe when I told her. I was sent to school. Within minutes I was confronted with a gentle pressure on my lower bowels. I knew I was going to poop. I calmly raised my hand and requested to use the restroom. My teacher replied, “Class just started. You can hold it.
” Being the polite child I was, I tried to hold it in but when I could clench no longer, it happened. I had no choice but to come clean. “I POOPED MY PANTS.
I NEED TO GO!” I was met with a sea of shocked stares. I was immediately sent to the clinic. I cleaned myself off and changed into a new pair of clean underwear.
The next three hours went by very smoothly… then lunch happened. After a lunch of questionable mystery meat, the same gnawing sensation on my intestines returned. I told my teacher I needed to use the restroom. I was struck down with a firm “No.
” I had to wait for my turn to use the restroom pass. (She obviously hadn’t learned her lesson from the events that unfolded three hours prior.) By that time, it had happened again. I was sent to the clinic for the second time, where I cleaned myself off, changed into a new pair of underwear and returned to class. I had had enough.
I started bawling. I was inconsolable. For the third time that day, I was sent to the clinic where I spent the rest of the day. Needless to say it wasn’t a great first day. Years later, I thought again to this story and realized how funny it was.
Nobody had remembered what happened to me and years later it didn’t matter anymore. What seemed to be the end of my world ended up a funny story. This event taught me a very important lesson: the things that seem like such a huge deal in the present don’t matter in the future. With this new mentality, I’ve been able to stress less and to be more carefree about the small things that won’t matter in 10 years. While at the time, I desperately wanted to transfer to a new school, pooping my pants made me a more relaxed and care-free person. Back then, I wanted nothing more than to just disappear. Now, I can embrace this event as a vital part in the formation of my personality, allowing me to relax, to be more care-free and to worry less about the little things.
There’s a saying, “Will it matter in 10 years’ time?” I can firmly attest to this statement, otherwise, why would I be freely sharing my story?