Bathroom Blues

by Katie Miller

We met on the first day of kindergarten. Well actually, she had no idea who I was, but by the end of the day I felt I knew her very well. Helen and I had not been put in the same class; she was in the classroom next to mine. My room had the bathroom, hers had the sink. Which was not one of the brightest ideas for sanitary reasons, but the classrooms were still pleasant. Mine had many colorful chairs and paintings on the walls. On the floor there was an “ABC” carpet. We each got our own letter to sit on, forming a semi-circle around our teacher, Ms. Maynes. She was very kind and friendly; smiling and talking to us, making us feel safe and secure. Not all of us felt very safe though; a couple of children ran out of the room chasing their parents. The rest of us giggled at them. But in our hearts we knew that we too wanted to run after our own parents, tears streaming down our cheeks. I was desperately trying to hide this fact, for my house was right across the street and my older brother was a third-grader at the school, so I should have felt fine. Except I was trembling all over. However, soon my fears vanished, I wasn’t the only one scared, I could see other children quivering too.

That’s when the screaming began. Ms. Maynes had just begun teaching us to count to 10 when a shriek sounded from the room next door. Wide-eyed, we all turned toward the sound.

“Its okay children, everything’s okay. There’s no need to worry,” Ms. Maynes assured us, “It’s okay so lets continue…1…2…3”

“…1...2…3,” we all hesitantly replied. What had caused that sound? We all silently wondered.

Again the screaming started, louder this time and more desperate. Ms. Maynes sighed and again told us not to worry. But this time the obnoxious screaming didn’t stop. We couldn’t go on with our lesson and the noise was painful to listen to. I started to get annoyed at whoever the person was. Didn’t they understand that we were trying to get things done here? We didn’t have the time to try to talk over the atrocious sound of their voice. Finally after many minutes of everyone giving each other wondering faces, the screaming stopped. I smiled my relief and turned toward Ms. Maynes ready to continue learning.

“Okay…now that that’s all done let’s continue…4…5…6-”

She was again cut off by the insufferable noise. I covered my ears, trying to block the sound out. If only it would just stop. All I wanted was for it to stop! My ears were crying out and my hatred was burning hotter with every moment. Why wouldn’t they just be quiet? Didn’t they know it was annoying? Didn’t they know they were disturbing other people? How rude could they get?

The screaming got steadily louder and louder until our door was ripped open. Another teacher came in dragging a little Chinese girl by the arm; once they got into the room the girl immediately stopped screaming. The silence resounded in my ears. Tear streaks covered her face and her eyes were red and swollen. Pity and guilt consumed me. All the hatred I had felt until a moment before vanished. She was just a sad little girl. She had meant no harm in screaming and was most likely just scared like every one else.

The two teachers talked in hushed voices, the other teacher still gripping the girl’s hand. It looked like it really hurt and I started to feel even worse for the girl. If only she had been in our class, with our kind teacher, Ms. Maynes, then she wouldn’t be so sad.

Ms. Maynes heaved a sigh as she nodded. The other teacher then started pulling on the girl’s arm as Ms. Maynes headed back toward us. Every pair of eyes was on her, heads revolving slowly so as not to lose sight. Just as she sat down to face us, the bathroom door slammed shut, making us all jumped out of our skin. Little fists immediately started pounding on the door from inside.

“Thank you,” said the other teacher smiling as she left. She smiled! She actually smiled! How could she smile after locking a four-year-old girl in a bathroom?!

“Glad I could help,” Ms. Maynes said. “Alright children-” The pounding grew louder and more frantic. Screaming emanated from the door.

“Helen is new here so I want you to be nice and respectful. She’s just having a hard time fitting in.” Sobs found their way to our ears. She sounded so sad, so alone. I imagined myself getting up, tearing the door open and hugging Helen until she felt better. Too bad I couldn’t reach the doorknob.

She started to kick at the door, beating it as if breaking it down was her sole purpose in life. The sobbing turned into hysterical screams and screeches. She kept screaming and pounding and kicking again and again and again, not even stopping to catch her breath. With each pound my body flinched, I wanted to curl up into a ball and block out the horrid sound. Ms. Maynes was in her chair still trying to teach but Helens screams drowned out what ever it was she was trying to say.

“Chi-” Bang! she would attempt, “Now please-” Bang! Nothing worked.

Annoyance flashed through my mind. No, that is wrong. Bad Katie, bad, she’s hurting, you should feel sorry for her. I reminded myself.

Soon Helen’s banging became weaker and her screaming turned into defeated sobs. But the weaker it got the more frightening it became. What if she was dying in there? What if she was suffocating and no one knew? We would become murderers!

“Finally,” Ms. Maynes muttered, Turning back to us she said, “Okay children, it seems that Helen is still very upset so lets give her some of our love.” She beamed. We all stared blankly.

“Now lift up your hands,” she said while lifting up her own. “And rub them together just as I am doing now. Then once your hands are all nice and warm and your love is flowing around them, I want you to turn them to Helen and send your love to her. Send as much as you can.”

Now how was that supposed to help? I wondered. There’s a huge thick door in the way. She can’t see what we’re doing. Seriously weren’t teachers supposed to be smart? My mouth struggled to stay shut as I did what I was told. And who knew, maybe I was wrong. Maybe if we did this Helen really would feel better. Teachers knew best; they were supposed to help us. Ms. Maynes wouldn’t do anything that wasn’t best for Helen, right?

We repeated sending our love over and over again until our hands grew sore and red. But despite our efforts Helen was nowhere closer to feeling better. The pitiful sobs resounded in my ears and the lonely pounding of her fists tore at my helpless heart. But I kept rubbing my hands and turning them toward Helen. I needed to help her, she was hurting a lot more then my hands were. She wouldn’t have been crying so desperately if this wasn’t the case.

“Good job boys and girls,” Ms. Maynes said. “You did a really good job. Helen is very lucky to have such nice friends in this class. Now you all can go outside for a 15-minute recess. Play nice and don’t shove.”

Everyone got up and started running to the door. So that was it? We’re all supposed to just forget about Helen? I’m supposed to have fun playing outside while she’s in a small, dark, stinky room?

“Katie?” Ms. Maynes interrupted my thoughts, “Don’t you want to play in the nice fresh air with your friends?”

I nodded to make her happy.

“Okay then c’mon, up you go,” she said while tugging on my arm.

I obliged and followed Ms. Maynes outside. As we passed she glanced at the bathroom door once then kept walking. I whispered “sorry,” to the door, knowing all too well that the message wouldn’t reach Helen. The feeling of helplessness was too overwhelming; I wanted to be able to do something.

The rest of the day continued without excitement. Helen had admitted defeat. We would occasionally hear a sob or two but other then that no sound would be heard coming from the bathroom.

I didn’t see Helen any more that year. She would already be in the bathroom when the rest of us got to school, and would be let out after we left. This happened every day for a week, then a few other times throughout the year. Rumors surfaced that really she had died in the bathroom the first day and her ghost was quietly crying for the loss of her life. But these rumors stopped when we all met her in second grade and became friends.

“Hi! I’m Helen,” she exclaimed when introduced by our friend Jane. The image of her tear streaked face flashed through my mind. I could hear her desperate pounding and screaming again, resounding in my head.

I cowered behind Jane, a feat that proved difficult since I was a foot taller then her, “Hi, I’m Katie,” the words rushed out of my mouth.

“Awww you’re so cute!” Helen squealed. “Let’s be great friends!”

As time passed we grew closer and closer. Soon we were stuck together, where ever I was, so was Helen. Wherever Helen was, one could find me right beside her. In seventh grade I finally asked her the long overdue question.

“Hey Helen?” I prompted while walking home one day. “Do you remember what happened in kindergarten?”

“You mean the bathroom stuff?”

“Yeah, why did they do that to you?”

“I was crying and screaming back then because I didn’t understand English.” Helen had explained to me. “And the teachers just kept talking to me. I only knew Chinese so when I tried talking to them they just stared and shook their heads. I think that’s why they decided to lock me up.”

“But like why didn’t they call your mom or something, or like a translator?”

“Well when I told my mom she assumed that that was the way American schools worked, so she didn’t do anything. And you know, after a while I actually kinda liked it in the bathroom. At least people weren’t screaming at me in English. Though, guess what Katie!” She added half laughing.

“What?” I urged her on.

“When I was first locked inside, I considered throwing a rock at the window. You know the window right?”

“Oh yeah! Wait…seriously?! You were going to start throwing rocks. Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed. I remembered the window; a really tiny one near the top of the wall. Despite how small Helen was, there was no way she would’ve fit through it. She had been completely trapped.

A sick feeling swelled inside me. Our teachers had been so quick to lock up such a sweet, innocent girl. I swore that the next time Helen was in trouble I would help her out, no matter what.

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