(I am what you call an “early bloomer”. I start menstruating at ten years old, right before starting fifth grade. I am the only girl in my class with her period for most of the year, and it is also the first year I have ever had a male teacher. My mom even makes a point of sending a note to school, letting him and the front office know I’ve already started menstruating, and that I have permission to get Tylenol from the nurse if needed, etc. The teacher is a nice guy, but new to teaching, and I think he tries to be more strict than necessary to set a precedent. It’s important to note that I am also one of those kids who has zero embarrassment talking about any subject.)
Me: *approaching his desk during a worksheet period* “Mr. [Teacher]? May I go to the bathroom?”
Teacher: “[My Name], you’ve been to the bathroom three times already today. I don’t appreciate you trying to skip out on class time. You can wait until we take our break, an hour from now.”
Me: “Mr. [Teacher], I really need to go. I’ll be very fast!”
Teacher: “No. This isn’t funny. Now, sit down and wait.”
Me: “But, I…”
Teacher: “There is no reason you should need to go a fourth time since this morning.”
Me: *getting frustrated* “There is a reason!”
Teacher: “All right, what reason could you possibly have?”
Me: “I’m on my period! It’s bad this time, and my pad has already filled up with blood! I’m sitting in blood!”
Teacher: *half the class stares while he turns a few shades of red, before handing me the hall pass* “Go to the bathroom, [My Name].”
Me: “Thank you.”
(That happened multiple times throughout the year. He just couldn’t seem to remember that this was going to happen every month. Eventually, I had to start letting the nurse [who my mom was friends with] know on the days my period had started, just to have some backup that I was telling the truth.)
