I am a bathroom pass, and I have been abused.  Let me walk you through my everyday routine. It’s first period and a teenage boy realizes he has to use the can, so he asks the teacher to go to the bathroom. She hands me over to this disgusting looking creature, and we stroll on to the hell hole that is known as a public school restroom. He then casually tosses me into the sink where I will wait for 10 minutes until he has finished his business. This is when the tension builds up. I constantly think, “For the love of God, please wash your hands before you touch me,” over and over, but, because he is a 15-year-old boy, he doesn’t. I cringe as he walks by the sink and picks me up to head back to class. On the way back, I can literally feel excretory wastes dripping all over me. Thank goodness some of that will be accidentally wiped off of me by the teacher’s hands when he gives it back to her. The teacher sets me down on her desk, and I wait until I am yet again victimized by another disgusting student.

This time, a girl raises her hand to use the restroom. You poor girl. I wish I could tell you what you’re about to put your hands on. She grabs me, and we go to the much cleaner female restroom. I don’t worry for myself when I’m in the care of an innocent girl. I only worry for her because she has no idea what came before her. After she uses the restroom, she washes her hands, and we go back to the classroom.

This pattern repeats itself over and over every single day, and not once am I even cleaned or wiped down. Just remember that next time you have to use me.