The Secret Life of Bathrooms

Why is it that all the good stuff evolves in school bathrooms?

In the last 3 days, I've had numerous occasions in which I had to use the little girls' bathroom. Experience has taught me to brace myself, draw a deep breath, and give in to the urge to sing, "Little girls, little girls, everywhere I turn I can see them." It's been YEARS since I've seen Annie. But surely this is the place where Ms. Hannigan found her soul:

• It never fails that 2 out of 3 of the toilets aren't flushed.
• Don't even ask about the toilet seats.
• It never fails that the sinks are dripping with slimy green soap. (Does ANY of it make it onto their hands?)
  
• It sometimes fails (thank god!) that a little kindergarten girl is in the next stall talking to herself about... oh, let me just use her words, "Oop, another one." Tuneless humming interrupted only by grunting. Then, "Hey, who's in here?" Then tee hees herself silly when I say, "It's a teacher." (What more can you say??)

I always vow that next time I'll wait until the faculty bathroom's empty.

But at least I don't have to go inside the boys' bathroom.

Today we teachers were sitting in the lounge enjoying a little chat and a laugh and lunch. (Yep, that's what we do in there.) When we hear a huge thud on the northwest wall. My classroom's on the south wall, Teacher #2's is on the northwest wall just west of the bathrooms, and Teacher #3's is on a whole different wing.

But still, all three of us pop up and race for the door. I am the last one to spring into action and pull the door to the inner sanctum shut behind me with the cunning instincts that make me a top-notch teacher; Never leave the Teachers' Lounge open to surveillance. We fly down the hall with T2 in the lead.

Within seconds our little SWAT team has the boys' bathroom surrounded. That's where things get dicey. We exchange quizzical looks that clearly indicate, Who's going in??

T3 and I figure it's really T2's turf so we hang back. T2's a trooper and bucks up, bangs on the door and yells, "What's going on in there?!"

Out staggers a 6th grade boy, mumbling about a fight and another boy who's still hanging in the bathroom.

Turns out they escaped the holding cell (AKA the cafeteria) after bolting the noon feeding and thought they'd rowdy it up in the bathroom.

Ha! Little did they know that we teachers don't rest. We're just sitting in the lounge with our ears to the walls. Ready to change into our SWAT gear at a moment's bang and leap down the halls... to wherever the current crisis is located.