My First Day at St. Patrick's Anglican

I looked forward to starting primary school in Grenada. I had visited St. Patrick's Anglican School on numerous occasions. It was the location of our annual church harvest. My sister was an upper class pupil and cousin Maggie was my teacher. All my classmates from Mrs. Redhead's Preparatory School were in my class. I had a reputation for talking. I stopped only for breath. That day, by ten o'clock, I had spoken to Sally, Ann, Peter and Christopher and had been told to stop six times. I stopped talking to go to the bathroom. I went toward the door. "Paula! Where are you going?" screamed teacher Maggie. "To the outhouse," I replied. "Did you ask for permission?" she asked sternly. I shook my head. "Sit back down, then ask." Teacher went to help Margaret, the girl across the room. I was agitated. My bladder felt about to burst. "Teacher Maggie, can I go outside and pee?" I yelled. I prayed to God to let me live. "That is the rudest thing I have ever heard. You will not go to the bathroom until breaktime." She turned and walked away. Beneath my breath I cursed (no one would believe I attended church every Sunday). Crossing my legs didn't help. I couldn't take it anymore. I looked down. A big puddle formed beneath my chair. "Teacher Maggie, Paula peed in her panty," screamed Jerry. My classmates thought it funny. When I laughed, it was with relief. Teacher Maggie was not pleased. She made me mop it up. After my task, I stretched out my hand to Teacher Maggie to receive my punishment. She hit me with a ruler. It didn't hurt, but I cried to please her. I learned that trick from going to Sunday matinee. At lunch time, Cousin Maggie and I walked to her mother's house for lunch. This we did for three years.

- Paula Peters

From No More Masterpieces: Short Prose by New Writers edited by Guy Allen et al. Reproduced by permission of Canadian Scholars' Press Inc.