Three Strikes

There are some aspects of teaching that simply cannot be taught in a college course.  Procedures, in particular, can be a challenge; when to let kids sharpen pencils, the best seating arrangement on the rug for story time, where in the classroom to line up so the least amount of stuff will be tampered with, what to do if and when students lose scissors, glue sticks, or pencils - things you don't really think about until you're in the midst of 25 little people who can't even pronounce the word procedure. 

My second year of teaching I had a particularly tough time determining the best procedure for bathroom breaks.  I had one student who asked to go an average of 4 times for every 10 minutes spent in class and it started giving me a headache after 20.  Being the brilliant second-year teacher that I was, I told my class they were allowed to use the bathroom a maximum of three times in one day.  When they decided to use these trips was entirely up to them.  Once they were out of trips, they better hope Mom thought to pack an extra pair of pants in their backpacks; kind of a "three strikes, you're out" sort of deal. This is one more reason first graders are great.  They believe in magic.  After this new procedure was in place, they never once questioned whether I actually knew how many times they had gone to the restroom, which I did not.

We went weeks without ever mentioning bathroom breaks and, shockingly, never having a single accident.  Then one morning, about an hour into the school day, I noticed that Christian had taken several trips to the bathroom already and was asking for permission again.  Well, that's against procedure, so I questioned him,

"Christian, buddy.  You've already used your three trips and we've only been in school for just over an hour.  What's the problem?"  In a million years, I never would have guessed his response.

In a loud, clear, now-hear-this, kind of voice Christian said, "I'll tell you what the problem is, Mrs. Plant!  I have diarrhea!"  Collective gasps and looks of horror fell upon the other students.  We don't actually say the word diarrhea.  Christian was unfazed as he turned to address the class.  Pointing at the students, he shouted, "That's right!  Diarrhea!"  He marched straight to the classroom door, put his hand on the knob, and proclaimed to the world, "I have diarrhea and I'm goin' to the bathroom!"  And out he walked, leaving the other students, and the teacher, dumbfounded and unsure of what to do next.  As nonchalantly as possible I turned back to the class, shrugged my shoulders, and continued on with the activity.  Gratefully, the students followed suit.

I was concerned Christian's classmates might take this as an invitation to make bathroom proclamations in order to get extra trips down the hall.  Fortunately for me and my authority, no one else was willing to actually use the necessary verbiage in order to make it happen.