Day 356 - About A Boy
It's always been about a boy.
Honestly, from as far back as I can remember there's always been at least one that my heart strings have been attached to, that my longing has wistfully followed, that my hopes have been built upon. It seems like a terrible weakness to admit to, but it's true. My story has always been about a boy.
I don't have many clear memories of my early childhood, but I do remember first grade and Kevin. Kevin was a cute little black boy who sat at the desk behind me – our proximity was probably why I saw so much potential in him to begin with – and I was always getting into trouble for turning around to talk to him.
But at six years old, my curiosity for boys was inexplicably piqued and I just couldn't help myself. Of course, our relationship met its end on that fateful day when Kevin betrayed my undying love.
My teacher, Mrs. Hughes, had probably been teaching for too long because she didn't seem to care much for first graders. Or maybe she just really disliked teaching us how to read. Whatever the case, there was one rule that she was quite adamant about and that was NEVER interrupt reading group! The class was split into two reading groups and when she was working with one group, the other group was expected to follow that rule with the utmost respect. Of course, she gave us permission to ask to go to the bathroom, but truth be told, she was too effective at being terrifying to be trusted.
One day, one of the girls simply couldn't hold it in any longer, but neither could she overcome her fear of interrupting reading group for permission to go to the bathroom. Instead, she wet her pants in the classroom. Mrs. Hughes did her best to be understanding and admonished us that we could interrupt reading group if we really, really had to go the bathroom!
Well, not too many days later, I found myself in the same horrifying predicament as my classmate and I really had to go! But...how could I be sure that I really, really had to go?? I just couldn't decide and I couldn't bring myself to risk it. And then I started to pee.
Perhaps I thought it would be preferable to just pee my pants a little and suffer the embarrassment of wet britches rather than risk the wrath of my teacher if I needlessly interrupted her reading group. However, it turned out that I really, really did have to go because the pee quickly filled up the concave bottom of the hard, plastic chair where I sat and then began overflowing, spattering onto the hard floor tiles. This is when Kevin came to my rescue.
Not.
Maybe he was tired of me constantly talking to him and he saw this as an easy breakup or maybe he was just a six year old tattletale, I don't know, but he immediately threw up his hand, began waving it frantically in the air while calling out, "Mrs. Hughes! Mrs. Hughes! Jeanne peed her pants!!"
I was mortified. The love of my very short life was telling on me! But the worst was yet to come. Mrs. Hughes was MAD! The first time she had tried to be understanding, but this was just too much and I should know better and didn't I remember that she had TOLD me I could ask her to go to the bathroom if I really, really, really needed to go?? Actually, I don't remember everything she said, but I do remember feeling too tall as I stood there shamefully, sopping wet in my red overalls, while she railed at me and made an example of me for the rest of the class.
I guess I survived that day somehow along with the rest of first grade, but I don't have any more memories of Kevin. Still, whatever lessons I learned in that moment, it seemingly had little to do with the fact that crushes were highly unreliable - as Kevin was only the first of many who would shape my story.
