Thinking so much about my purpose in life lately brought up a memory of a visit to a restroom (yes, it is that kind of story) that I had once in college. I was, at that time, teaching some undergraduate courses as a TA to help cover my tuition. The class was not going particularly well. The students shared they had been worried about upcoming midterms, their GPA’s, pleasing their parents, and their feelings of gloom and doom about their futures. It was as if their entire existence depended on the outcome of these tests. I promised them that after we covered the class material we could have an in-depth conversation (I am a mental health counselor so I figure I should only go so much in-depth so that they could vent but not open the prodigal can of worms) about it. As promised, we did. Their concerns were real. So many people had equated them to their GPA’s that they believed they would devalue as a person if their grades would lower. What/who would they be if they failed their exams? We got busy with it. A few minutes of seeing how they all had these issues in common and were not alone, with a dash of some clear step-to-step problem solving, and they left feeling like they could actually do something about their “existence-threatening” issue.
I picked up my teaching materials, and walked like a champ to the bathroom to pee (I drink sinful amounts of water). I put my things on a desk available in the bathroom, and walked into the stall. With the skill of a master I put toilet paper on the toilet seat, twirled around like a ballerina, and planted myself on the white throne. However, before I could begin, the toilet started flushing… and flushing, and flushing, and flushing. I covered the toilet sensor but nothing changed. I ducked to hide from the movement sensor and there was no policy change in that situation. As soon as I could finish I stood up to give the toilet a stern look as if to tell it that it was nothing more than a kitty litter for humans, and it stopped flushing. The evidence of my insane water intake still there, with the clouds of paper floating, and no flushing to be heard. I was indignant. I pushed the little black button and NOTHING! Beyond embarrassed I had to walk away, one of those people leaving their DNA behind knowing no one would care to collect it for cloning, and AS SOON as I closed the stall door behind me I could hear the clear sound of a loud flush. I slowly walked to the sink feeling somewhat inadequate by the toilet; wash my hands with soap while counting to 20; rinsed; dried my hands on my shirt; got my things and walked out. No direct eye contact was disbursed during the making of this episode.
Right outside the bathroom, on a sitting area available for students for waiting in-between classes, I saw a friend of mine who looked up and could see, like a masterful gypsy scrying on a crystal ball, that I had seriously deep issues. At her silent question (or the one I assumed that she was asking) I said in quite the theatrical manner, waiving my right index finger around, and my head stiff as Queen with a crown: “I AM HERE, YOU KNOW?! And a toilet will NOT determine my value or existence!” A heartbeat passed and we started belly laughing until we were wiping tears from our faces, eyeliners be damned. I told her what had happened and she asked me if it had been like the third toilet on the right (I think) and it had been. She explained that it was broken. We had to laugh so more. Still laughed a week later when I was helping her paint her apartment when she was moving back home.
At some point, while thinking about the broken toilet, and my amazingly loving students, I had to wonder how broken the people who equated my students to their grades must have been. My students made to feel like those other people (family, teachers, any figure of authority) thought them to be unworthy of an acceptable and loving reaction. My students, too busy drinking sinful amounts of the infamous “kool-aid”, struggling because broken people are too busy flushing out mouthfuls of judgment. I wish them unbroken people.
