Dave Is Visited by Public Teacher Nightmare Number One (or perhaps number two?)

Now that this incident is in the rearview mirror, it's a little easier to discuss—but yesterday . . . yesterday, I was going through it, but during the school day I kept it all to myself, I didn't tell a soul until I got home and saw my wife; I should point out that yesterday was the dreaded day after night conferences, which is already a miserable day, even without extra distress: you drive home in the dark from three hours of night conferences, three hours of boring, desultory conversation; you pass out from exhaustion; and then you get up and head right back to school, right back to the room you were in what feels like moments before—it's very Groundhog Day—but to add insult to injury, yesterday morning, on my drive to back to work, while driving on Harts Lane, I thought I had to pass some gas but it turned out there was something a bit more solid (but also kind of liquidic, thixotropic?) needing to exit my bunghole-- and while I thought that I curtailed the excrement in the nick of time and figured  that I'd simply make an emergency trip to the bathroom before first period, and that would be the end of it-- but when I arrived at school, I raced to the main office bathroom to evacuate my bowels, and once I got down to business, I realized I was living out one of the worst of teacher nightmares-- I had indeed shit my pants right before school-- but as far as shitting your pants goes, it was fairly minor (but not THAT minor) so I cleaned out my underwear as much as I could, sprayed some Fabreeze on the stain, and then scrubbed it a bit more, ended up getting some urine on my pants during this clean up, stuffed some toilet paper inside my underwear to absorb some of the dampness, and then went on with my day-- and while I did visit the bathroom several times, just to clean things up a bit more and swap out the toilet paper in my underwear, I managed to successfully perform my afternoon conferences and teach all my classes with shit-stained skivvies, and I lived to tell the tale . . . we'll see what other demonic teacher nightmares visit me in this last year of teaching . . . perhaps my car will break down on the way to school, or I'll show up wearing my pajamas, or I'll forget the names of all my students-- but none of them will be as gross and awful as this one, I surmise.