So, going to the bathroom in my high school was a Very Serious Issue. You see, at any given time, there were only half or so of the bathrooms open. You found out which ones were open by finding the bathroom monitor, which were teachers who were assigned to sit at a table outside the bathroom. You went there, you signed in, with the time you got there, did your business, signed out with the time you left, and went back to class. (What was done with the forms? I don’t know. It kinda creeps me out to imagine them all filed away somewhere in the office…)
Sometimes you’d get overzealous bathroom monitors, or teachers. You see, the bathroom monitor had to sign your pass back to class. But if you took too long either to get to the bathroom, or were in the bathroom too long, they wouldn’t sign it (this only happened once the entire time I was there, when I had to poo during third period, but some other people I knew it happened to rather frequently until they figured out they could avoid those ones by going to another floor, because they were tired of being penalized for having class on the opposite side of the building). And in some classes, not getting the pass signed could mean detention, because the teacher would check, and assume you hadn’t gone to the bathroom instead. (Some teachers were very suspicious of the students. They would call the nurse and ask “What (name) there last period?” because them puking in class could have just been a ploy to get out of class. Yes, I kid you not, there was a teacher who did this)
That, in and of itself, was annoying enough. I mean, first you force me to come to this place almost every day, and then you proceed to treat me like a criminal, and tell me I took too long pooping so you’re not going to sign my slip and get me a detention, which makes me stay at this place even longer? But it got worse than that. Two specific incidents come to mind…
Supposedly, there was a gang problem at my high school. I say supposedly, because I never actually say any evidence besides teenagers being teenagers and boasting that they were a gang. And supposedly, there was one called the Red Shirt Fraternity. And they are why I got sent to my administrator by a bathroom monitor.
It was a Thursday. It was my first, maybe second week of school. It’s at some point before lunch, because I was wondering if I would be able to find my new friends at lunch that day. I had to use the bathroom. As I’m signing in, the bathroom monitor goes, “What do you think you’re doing, wearing that?”
I look down with alarm at my clothing. I was confused, and had no idea what she was talking about. I knew the dress code was different, but all I was wearing was a red t-shirt that covered everything, a pair of jeans, and some sneakers. I looked confusedly at her. Apparently that constituted giving her attitude, and I was escorted down to the administrator.
I was so confused and worried. What had I done that landed me in the administrator’s office already? Was I going to be a “bad kid” at my new school?
The administrator called me in to his office. When he asked, I honestly told him I had no idea why I was brought there. He mentioned that I should know not to wear red shirts on Thursday, because it was a “gang sign” and no “gang signs” were allowed in the school. I quickly assured him that I had no idea of that, and that it was only my second week in this school and how there was nothing about red shirts in the dress code, and that I had studied it to make sure I wouldn’t get in trouble because the dress code was so different than the other school I had been to. He believed me, and let me go, with a warning to “never wear red on a Thursday again!”
(the funny thing is, unintentionally, I did a few other times, later on during my time there. No one said anything. Funny how arbitrary things are…)
Another time, it was near the beginning of the school year. I had on a pair of boy-shorts, because due to the restrictions on length of shorts and my disproportionately long at the time legs, no pairs of girl shorts fit me at the time, and a somewhat baggy t-shirt. However, I had long flowing hair to my shoulders, and that was my normal fashion those days, so I thought nothing of it.
Went to go to the girl’s bathroom. “That’s the wrong door..” the monitor said. I look up, to make sure it’s the lady’s room. Try to go in the bathroom again. “I said that’s the wrong door!” she replied. I turned around, yelled at the top of my lungs, “I’M A GIRL!!!!!” and stormed into the bathroom. She apologized to me on my way out, but after seeing me look at the sign, and then continue to try to go in, you’d think she got the picture. I made sure that I was going into the right door. No need to push your preconceived ideas of how a boy or a girl should look like on me.
There was a point to this post, originally. I forget now. I’m just going to chalk it up as a random “experiences in the life of a Momo” post.