Handwashing (journal entry)
There's this interesting memory where I lied to my teacher in 3rd grade.
I wasn't an exemplary student when it comes to character or manners so it shouldn't be surprising. Even at home, I lied to hide the mistakes I'd done; to protect myself from adults rubbing me their ugly truth. But in this particular incident, I lied not because I knew I did something wrong. I lied because I didn't, and I was embarrassed to tell the truth.
It had turned quiet in the classroom as our teacher just gave us something to work on. Not exactly sure if the timing was right, I raised a hand and excused myself to the restroom. To my surprise, the teacher exclaimed, "You're going to pee again?" as if it was something I had foreseen. I thought I could hear a few snickers around but I couldn't help it if I drank too much water during recess I had to pee—again. At that point I knew students weren't allowed to excuse themselves often, because we were told it could disturb classes and such. That's why I waited for the longest time I could to ask again. But then again, the teacher remembered me— the student who always visited the restroom.
"I'm only going to wash my hands," I lied to her. She looked annoyed but she let me go, thankfully. During that split second, I thought if I had a different reason, she might reconsider. I was correct, and it was terrible now that I think about it. Imagine having to endure a full bladder just because one wasn't allowed to go out, as if it was wrong to answer the call of nature. I returned to the classroom wiping my already dried hands on my skirt, just for show. The truth was, I didn't really think of washing my hands at that time because my fingers were tired from writing a lot that afternoon. I could also just use alcohol after using the toilet, but screw that. I had to be true to my lie.
I wasn't an exemplary student when it comes to character or manners so it shouldn't be surprising. Even at home, I lied to hide the mistakes I'd done; to protect myself from adults rubbing me their ugly truth. But in this particular incident, I lied not because I knew I did something wrong. I lied because I didn't, and I was embarrassed to tell the truth.
It had turned quiet in the classroom as our teacher just gave us something to work on. Not exactly sure if the timing was right, I raised a hand and excused myself to the restroom. To my surprise, the teacher exclaimed, "You're going to pee again?" as if it was something I had foreseen. I thought I could hear a few snickers around but I couldn't help it if I drank too much water during recess I had to pee—again. At that point I knew students weren't allowed to excuse themselves often, because we were told it could disturb classes and such. That's why I waited for the longest time I could to ask again. But then again, the teacher remembered me— the student who always visited the restroom.
"I'm only going to wash my hands," I lied to her. She looked annoyed but she let me go, thankfully. During that split second, I thought if I had a different reason, she might reconsider. I was correct, and it was terrible now that I think about it. Imagine having to endure a full bladder just because one wasn't allowed to go out, as if it was wrong to answer the call of nature. I returned to the classroom wiping my already dried hands on my skirt, just for show. The truth was, I didn't really think of washing my hands at that time because my fingers were tired from writing a lot that afternoon. I could also just use alcohol after using the toilet, but screw that. I had to be true to my lie.
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