First grade. I had to urinate rather badly, but there were always a couple kids waiting in line by the door--only one child (may have been one of each gender) was allowed to leave the room at one time.
I finally got desperate enough to go stand in line. There were two kids in front of me, and a third had just left.
I finally had to go rather badly. The boy in front of me left; this was a 1920s school and had been expanded in the 1950s. It was one long brick building with classrooms on each side. They were arranged in grade order. First grade was at the far end, then you passed the front door and main desk, nurses office (no nurse, just an office) and faculty restrooms. Then down the long hall past 2nd, 3rd and 4th grade and the library.
That's when you reached the old main entrance to the building, where the boys and girls rooms were located. Giant tiled rooms with tall ceilings, pink Boraxo powdered soap and the giant cloth towels on a roller.
The boy walked slowly--painfully for me--down the hall to the bathroom and disappeared inside for a long time. Just when I thought I could not hold it anymore, he reappeared. But rather than coming straight back, he wandered around; I could see him from the door of the classroom where I waited (the first grade classrooms and faculty lounge were in the new section of the building, which was elevated to a mezzanine level with the "new" auditorium/gym/cafeteria below, so I had a good view all down the building to the end.
He stopped and looked and people's coats hanging on the hooks.
He looked in the library.
He slowly wandered by each classroom.
He said hi to the secretaries behind the desk.
He stopped and looked at the machine that sold pencils with NFL teams on them for a dime.
I was a good kid who followed the rules. I waited at the door like I was told.
He finally got back and I burst out at a fast walk that decayed into the closest thing I could do to a run without actually running in the hall, which was forbidden. About at the library, I lost control and wet my pants.
I went to the boys bathroom and hid in a stall. I did not know what to do.
Somehow, world got out. I don't remember if another boy from my class came in, but it did not seem very long before my teacher was in the bathroom on the other side of the stall door; I think I let her in. I know I was crying.
Phone calls were made and I was eventually provided with clean pants, but it took a long while. My poor mother had to get off work (not easy to do in at the time), go home and get clothes for me, and drive them to school. I remember the teacher came back in to help me change, and she folded up my clothes and put them in a paper sack.
I am grateful for how she handled things. She also let me know that if I had to go that badly, it was okay to leave, even if the other child had not returned. Later that year, she had to come in the boys room again and rescue me when I caught the glans of my penis in the zipper....