Middle School Encourages Endurance in the Bathroom Department

Whenever I hear stories about camping in the wilderness, climbing Mount Everest, navigating the ocean in a kayak, and etc., my first concern—not always voiced aloud—is usually  “How do they go to the bathroom?”

So when my 12-year-old daughter told me that so far in her seventh-grade career at Middlesex she has been reprimanded twice for being late for class, because her locker is out of the way and she has to practically run during the four minutes she has to get from one class to her locker to the next class, and that she was reprimanded for being late to study hall—study hall occurs for her during the second half of the lunch break, the first half of which consists of bolting her lunch and the second half consists of silently studying for which she must be on time—my first question to her was, “When do you go to the bathroom?”

This concern is always top-of-mind for me, but it was even more on my mind, because I have been signing the required “contracts” from each of her teachers, and these “contracts” specify, in addition to being punctual and respectful and having her homework done on time under penalty of severe penalty, that she must only ask to go to the bathroom during class if it’s an “emergency.”

I am wondering what constitutes an emergency, given that there’s absolutely no other time to go to the bathroom. I remember back in the dark ages, when I was in high school, that we had an extra 15 minute break mid-morning, during which you could eat a snack and use the toilet if needed.

And she told me that she actually did ask to go during class, and that she was not permitted to go.

I suppose she could have invoked the “emergency” clause, but how humiliating would it be for a 12-year-old girl to explain in the presence of her class that she had some kind of bathroom “emergency”?

Which is likely to happen at some point. If you have a bunch of tweenagers, and you don’t let them use the bathroom, eventually there is going to be an accident of some kind, probably one which will be remembered by the particular accident-committer and a few of his or her classmates for the rest of their lives. In other words, it will be a legendary accident.

This accident could be a result of the cafeteria food, or the water that they’re supposed to be drinking all day (I read constantly about how you’re supposed to drink water all the time to be healthy, and yet the consequences of drinking water will be dire for these kids), or even a crimson tide accident. Let’s face it, these girls are getting their periods, and they’re novices at it. Some of them are in denial. And tampons are not something you can foist on the very young.

And another thought: what about all of the frequent and thorough hand washing that is supposed to be happening throughout the day to prevent the spread of seasonal flu and swine flu and SARS and MARS (whoops, MRSA) and all of those other dreaded illnesses? How are they supposed to wash their hands (thoroughly, per all of the instructions we have received) if they don’t even have time to pee?

Wouldn’t it be ironic if they had to shut the school down, considerably reducing the extremely important academic class time, because of an illness that spread because they didn’t make time for the kids to wash their hands?

All the more reason to make the bathroom accessible and comfortable to use. College students certainly don’t have to beg to go to the bathroom—they go when they need to go. An adult can get up and walk out of a meeting, and he won’t be interrogated or suffer a demerit because he had a little too much coffee.

As my young son wrote several years ago when he was very angry with me, “my mom poops and my mom pees.” Humiliating as it is, we all do it, and we all need time in which to accomplish these necessary functions.

So what did my daughter answer when I asked her how she went to the bathroom? She said “Mom, I never go to the bathroom at school."