Old Pat T and the Great Bathroom War

They had to take her away. The ambulance came and took her away, and we never saw her again. Old Pat T had taught her last class.
We moved from small agricultural Charlotte, Michigan to the blue collar suburb of Bridgeport, Michigan during the summer before I started First grade. If we had stayed in Charlotte, I would have had to repeat Kindergarten. I was a rebellious little kid who didn’t feel like it was important to share with the teacher what you were learning. I defied rules at all turns, was obnoxious, and missed most of the last weeks of school, lying at home, almost dying with severe hard measles.
First grade changed all that. Set in an old school building that only had the first grade in it, there were four classrooms on the main floor and one, one solitary classroom that was set below. Below in the basement. And that was where I was, not alone, but with twenty some other terrified kids. Alone in the basement. Alone in the basement with…Old Pat T.
Old Pat T, whose real name is completely lost to me, was our teacher. She was a Bridgeport institution, having taught First grade for decades – for all we knew, centuries. We were alone down there with her. There were no aides or assistants in those days. Any stuff or nonsense any of us had hanging over from Kindergarten was knocked right out of us.
We had a big walk-in closet down there, where we hung our coats and mittens and all those things you needed to survive in chilly Michigan. And it was used for one other thing. Time out. Oh, not the cute little sit in the corner time out used today. No, this was something else. If you were bad, she would put you in there. With the door shut. And the lights off. I must not have always been good. Because I remember that closet. I remember it all too well.
I remember poor Jimmy Schauman coming in with his pants wet, and Old Pat T humiliating him in front of the whole class for having wet his pants. He tried to tearfully deny it, and wound up in the closet for his troubles.
It was a troubling time for all of us. Our only relief was when we got into the light of day at recess. The only other time out of our dungeon is when we went as a group to the bathrooms upstairs. A fairly routine task. That is, until the Great Bathroom War.
There were only one set of bathrooms in the building. These were on the main floor with the other four classrooms. Every classroom was supposed to have a set time to go, as not to overwhelm the facilities. This was particularly true for us in the basement, and this strict schedule may have helped explain why we boys with wild, untamed bladders might occasionally have accidents. Old Pat T was not going to vary her schedule for anybody.
One fine school day, Old Pat T organized us for our trek upstairs to the bathrooms. But when we got up there, one of the other teachers was starting to line up her kids ahead of us. Well, Old Pat T was livid. This was not right. This was her classroom’s time, not this young upstart’s.
They engaged in verbal battle. We watched, our mouths dropping in amazement. We had never seen two adult teachers going at it like that, saying words to each other that many of us didn’t recognize. The confrontation became physical! Old Pat T slapped the upstart, and the upstart punched Old Pat T in the gut!
Meanwhile, as the fight was going on, we students from both classrooms, we of the full bladder club, came in and used the bathrooms together, operating in unison, without conflict or strife. When we came out, the ambulance was there and Old Pat T was being taken away.
I don’t remember what happened to old Pat T, other than that she never came back. I don’t know what happened to the young upstart who slugged her. I did learn that sometimes, if we don’t let ourselves get confined by authority and fear, we can all just go to the bathroom together.
The remainder of our year was more peaceful, even if we were in the basement. Yes, it helped straighten out a bit of my wildness. But it also left me a little bit terrified of authority figures, an attitude that has continued to this day. It has also left me with the need, wherever I’m working, whatever I’m doing, to make sure that I have quick, easy, and unfettered access to a bathroom.