Name: John
Email: [email protected]
Ages: 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

	"Sister, May I Go to the Bathroom?"
	"No. If you really need to go, you'll ask again." 
But I really did need to go. This was Sister Margaret's 
puzzling response whenever a boy in her grade 1 class 
asked to leave the room. I was a very shy child, and 
quite afraid of strict Sister Margaret and her devout 
Catholic colleagues, nuns who had little affinity for or 
understanding of boys; they seemed to think we were born 
evil. For example, if Sister Margaret saw a boy with his 
hands in his pockets, she would invariably throw a fit. 
It was only years later that I understood that she 
supposed such a boy to be masturbating.
	I knew I should ask again, but I was just too shy. 
The urge was getting worse and worse, but I tried to put 
it out of my mind by concentrating on our exercise of 
copying the alphabet. More time went by, and I felt 
myself wet just a little. Then a little more, then a 
little more, then I couldn't stop it. I flooded my pants, 
and urine began to drip off my chair and onto the floor. 
A kid beside me had his hand in the air.
	"Yes, Carl?"
	"Sister, that boy wet his pants."
	I was hopelessly praying that no one would notice, 
but pee was actually running down the uneven wooden 
floor. Now everyone was staring at me and laughing and 
jeering.
	"QUIET!! John, you big baby, what have you done?" 
Sister was upon me, and grabbed me by the shoulder and 
pushed me toward the cloakroom, a small separate room at 
the back of the class where we hung our coats. I could 
hear the commotion in the classroom as Sister Margaret 
ordered me to take my shoes off, then my wet pants and 
underwear. I was very ashamed to have her see me semi-
naked, and was acutely aware of the smell of urine. My 
shirt was wet where it had been tucked in, and she made 
me take that off also, leaving me in just a Tee-shirt. 
What a strange, nightmarish feeling it was to be standing 
in the back of a classroom full of my peers with no pants 
on!
	"I'll show you how I treat little wet babies in MY 
classroom. Wait right there!" She left, and I heard the 
squeaky door of the large wooden closet that held various 
supplies. I was very scared, and quietly said a 'Hail 
Mary'. Sister came back with a plastic bag. "Put your wet 
clothes in this." But first out of the bag she took a 
pair of snap-on thickly lined plastic pants. "Do you know 
what these are? They're called 'Stay-Dry Panties', and 
they're for boys like you who wet their pants. Now stand 
still while I put them on you." I didn't dare fight her, 
and she snapped me into the pants. I was terrified that 
she'd spank me, but this! Then I was made to go back to 
my desk, of course with all eyes upon me. The shameful 
pants rustled as I walked. I shrank into my chair after 
Sister cleaned it and the floor with a rag which she then 
put in with my clothes, which she then took somewhere to 
be laundered, while I had to put up with the teasing of 
my classmates. I was kept in those pants until the end of 
the day, but never got over the shame of it. The 
experience led to a resumption of my bedwetting which in 
turn led to my mother to resort to cloth diapers and 
rubber pants on me at night, and endless humiliation.