Yes! Blessed are we who lived through junior high's humiliations

By Mikaylie Kartchner

September 19, 2005 | Everyone has embarrassing moments. My life is littered with them.

From the time I was young, I have been tripping up stairs, spilling food down the front of myself, ripping clothing in unfortunate places -- and all in the public arena. Those are just the minor blunders, of course. I also have a few catastrophes to my name, the kind of experiences that make your face go several shades of red and trigger your survival instincts to start looking for hiding places.

My trouble started at adolescence. At 13, my family moved and I began junior high school in a building older than my grandparents. In fact, my mother went to junior high in the exact same building. Although the dilapidated state of this building was distressing for me, I found myself slightly more engaged in the hustle and bustle of the seventh grade. Switching classes several times a day, trying to open my locker, figuring out where the lunch room was, it was all a problem. Junior high had a pulse, the regular pounding rhythm created by the bells ringing, locker doors slamming, and pounding feet of hundreds of teenagers. Everyone stepped in key, but I was terribly out of sync, and mocked copiously because of it. The cockeyed, overweight 13-year-old, from Hicksville, Idaho, didn't wash over well in Utah's suburbia.

My mother insisted I'd find my niche, despite my endless protesting that school was pointless. Of course, she was right. I eventually made peace with junior high and submitted to the suburban beat. The other kids no longer mocked because of my awkwardness. I ceased to be the new kid on the block though I was certainly not part of the privileged class. I was merely content to blend with crowd. It worked for me and I was happy for the moment, and then the black day came.

It was an afternoon in early spring, and nature was calling me but not from out of doors. I was determined to ignore it, having a very clear picture of the grunge-filled stalls and broken water fixtures awaiting me if I dared give in. I bounced up and down in my seat, watching the clock in the lunch room anxiously; knowing the opportunity to ease my trouble was slowly evaporating. Finally, I broke, sliding out of my chair and edging my way down the hall, with one of my girlfriends in tow.

The atmosphere was as I suspected. The bathroom stunk like old gym clothes, lighted by flickering fluorescents. Despite my belief that everyone avoided this place, the room was quite busy. There were several girls standing around and a few more washing their hands at various sinks. Only one stall remained available, the one at the very end of the row. The door had no lock, which explained its vacancy, but my friend volunteered to hold it closed for me. I reluctantly agreed and slid inside the stall. I unzipped and took my seat; finally starting to feel more at ease and certain I would survive the experience. Then a hollow thud echoed through the room. I raised my eyes to see my friend, along with several other girls behind her, standing in horror with the stall door that had once kept me hidden from the world now lying at her heels.

It's a horror that haunts me to this day, as I remember the hurried shuffle of the once-again awkward teenager, venturing to classes through a pandemonium of giggling. I had been exposed to the world. How humiliating! But as the saying goes; if it doesn't kill you, it only makes you stronger.

At the time, I wished it had killed me. But I have learned to throw my head back and laugh; mostly since moments like this too often come up in mixed company, even more frequently since I began college. The question is infamous in get-to-know-you circles, what is your most embarrassing moment? At its very mention my face flashes with hysteria and I quickly look away, hoping no one noticed. Inevitably someone always does however, and I am forced to recount the tragic events of that day.

This constant refresher course in humiliation has taught me two valuable lessons though: blessed are they who can laugh at themselves for they shall never cease to be amused, and always give the bathroom door a good solid shake.

NW
MS