When I was in eighth grade, I always looked forward to the annual STAAR tests. Not the test itself, but to the hour or two left over when we could read. The state testing in Florida never let us do this, so when I moved to Texas, I appreciated the freedom.
After everyone finished the test, we were dismissed for lunch. After lunch, we had to return to the room we tested in, even though testing was over. I didn’t have any complaints though—more time to read.
About ten minutes or so until I realized I had a problem—I had to go to the bathroom.
At the time, going to the bathroom didn’t seem like an issue—we were allowed to use the restroom during testing.
So I asked the teacher if I could go, to which I received a flat out no. “Nobody can use the restroom for the next hour.”
Now I began to panic. I sat back down and opened my book. Maybe if I focused on reading, the hour would pass by quicker. I could barely focus, so I considered my options. If I wanted to follow the rules, there really only was one option—wait. That was out of the picture for me, unless I wanted to be known as the girl who peed her pants after the STAAR test.
I silently stood up and left the class to go to the bathroom. The distance between my desk in the middle of the room and the door seemed like miles. My heart was racing as I opened the door and sprinted down the hall. I half expected the teacher to try and stop me or chase me into the halls, but no one followed.
Returning to the classroom, part of me hoped maybe the teacher would just ignore what had happened—that’s what I would have done.
I quickly sat back down and opened my book. Maybe my hopes had come true.
I was wrong.
“Take your things and go to ISS,” the teacher said.
I suddenly felt a surge of anxiety. I silently gathered my things, shrugged my backpack on and followed the teacher down the hallway. I’m not the kind of kid to go to ISS. I had no idea where ISS even was. Until today, I’ve always been a strict rule follower, the “goody two shoes.”
“What do kids even do in ISS?” I asked myself.
The classroom door began to close, I heard the entire room burst into noise behind me. As if matters weren’t already bad, now people were probably making fun of me. I wasn’t the most popular kid in school, and now I was about to lose the few friends I had.
Once I arrived at the ISS room, I sat down and nervously explained my situation to two older ladies. They both understood and told me stories of similar students. To my relief, I wasn’t in trouble.
I stayed there until 7th period started, and secretly, I wanted to stay there for the rest of the day. I dreaded going back to class where people would probably not talk to me. I was embarrassed—I had no idea what to even expect. Upon my return, kids greeted me with the most baffling response.
“LET CHLOE PEE!” One of the girls shouted when she saw me.
In the matter of a few hours, I had become a hashtag. Some of the most popular kids in school were tweeting #LetChloePee. Everyone in class was suddenly intrigued to hear my side of the story. I didn’t think my actions were out of the ordinary. I’ve always been well aware that I’m a quiet and timid person, but if something is wrong or unfair, I don’t let it hold me back. But I guess I finally earned my 15 minutes of middle school fame… Just because I had to pee really bad.
