When I was about 8 years old, we were living in Chicago (that was not the “Moment”) and I was going to a school that was across the street from our apartment. (The location of the school was not important to this story.) We had a teacher who believed in our writing on the blackboard.
We had three stranger grownups, come to visit for what reason I can’t remember. After a few of their coming in to the room, I felt very uncomfortable. Normally, I would have raised my hand and the teacher would have allowed me to leave the classroom to take care of this discomfort.
This time, I was too shy to bring attention to myself and could only fidget until I could no longer hold myself in. The wetness rolled down my pants and socks and on to the floor. I tried to cover up my embarrassment with chalk powder. Actually, the trauma was so great, I can’t remember to this day what happened next.
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