Opportunities for Development: Prologue

The start of a school year was never fun for a Little. Whatever quirk of fate had thrown us the literal short straw when it came to getting through life had decided to be particularly mean during our first few years of development. I’d heard in other countries we were given independence, given the chance to be part of society before we were inevitably adopted by a “loving” Amazon family. But here in Albiane such things were, to use a local saying, “just not cricket”.

Even being the oldest in my class wasn’t enough to get me out of the woods. Eighteen years old? I certainly didn’t feel it, walking into the bright colourful classroom that had been a second home for over a decade.

Miss Grimsby’s “Pre-School and Developmental Opportunity Class” as it was formally known. Amazons referred to it by shortening its name to the Pre-School, while giving themselves a pat on the back for adding the last few words for the sake of inclusivity. Littles were being given an “opportunity” to prove themselves here, even if the odds were so horrendously stacked against us that we might as well be prisoners going for early parole.

At the start of each year we were assessed, a simple interview style affair that would determine whether we could handle the next level of learning. Of course we could, every Amazon in the school knew that a Little was capable of making it through their absurd system but no matter what our parents could teach us, lucky as they were to even be living independently among the giants, they’d keep us down here.

“Hi Eddy, please sit down” Miss Grimsby’s voice travelled towards me from the centre of the room and drew my attention.

Three teachers, all of whom I knew, were sat on office chairs in a semi-circle around a smaller red plastic chair, clearly meant for me. Standard stuff, if the chair could talk it would have probably have sarcastically noted it was just as annoyed as I was to have to deal with this again. I placed my butt down on it, a light crinkle from my diaper audible over the now dulled sounds of other kids outside.

“You’re looking very well today, are you ready for the test?” the teacher to my left, Miss Church, asked.

“Yes Ma’am” I replied. Etiquette was everything here, being impolite would’ve been like crashing into a wall at top speed in a driving test.

“We’re going to ask a series of simple questions and we want you to answer as best you can, ok Eddy?” followed, this time from a well-dressed gentleman by the name of Mr Douglas to my right. This was his first time doing this with me.

“Yes Sir” I replied again. These questions would be simple enough, it wasn’t here where I’d be inevitably tripped up.

“What is your name?”

“Edmund Carlisle”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen years old”

Mr Douglas gave the other teachers a look of confusion as he went to confirm my date of my birth. A student being eighteen at this stage wasn’t impossible, but it was unusual. An “Ah” came from his mouth before Miss Grimsby continued.

“Are you male or female?”

“Male”

“Do you feel as though you’re ready to move up to Reception?”

Here was the start of the trap. I couldn’t answer no, to do so would end the meeting there and possibly result in me being put up for adoption on the spot. It had happened more than once to teenagers who thought they’d try to be clever or passive aggressive. Little parents were expected to encourage their offspring to succeed, not give up at the first hurdle. None of us were safe, my responses here would reflect on them and we needed as little attention as possible.

“Yes Ma’am”

The three Amazons adjusted in their seats, preparing for what I knew from years of experience was coming.

“What do you want to be when you grow up, Eddy?” Mr Douglas asked.

Open-ended, patronising to someone my age and designed to give them points of weakness to identify. Impossible to lie about as well, since any lack of knowledge or enthusiasm was easy to spot. I simply answered as I had done for the last six years.

“I would like to be a pilot Mr Douglas”

Miss Grimsby smiled and nodded, ticking a box and looking up “Why would you like to be a pilot Eddy?”

I kept eye-contact as best I could, trying not to give away any sense of nerves. Even when you know your fate is sealed, having three people twice your height staring you down makes it hard to keep fully confident in what you know “I’ve enjoyed studying the history of flight, engaging with the concepts of physics involved and read extensively about the skills needed to do the job”

Mr Douglas visibly raised an eyebrow. He’d not been at one of these meetings before, apparently that answer was new to him even if it wasn’t to Miss Grimsby or Miss Church… they’d heard it last year.

“Can you tell us what an aeroplane is, Eddy?”

“An aeroplane is a powered flying vehicle with fixed wings and a weight greater than that of the air it displaces, Miss Church” I responded, reciting the dictionary definition. This was all about process and etiquette, don’t say more than you need to but make sure you have what you need.

“How many times have you flown, Eddy?”

First problem, first easy trap.

“I have never flown Mr Douglas”

Miss Church sighed. I almost sympathised with her, she knew that answer was coming and had heard it half-a-dozen times from my own mouth. Perhaps even from others.

“Then how do you know you’d like flying Eddy?”

I shifted involuntarily in my seat, my discomfort with the process now impossible to keep entirely contained.

“I’ve ensured that I’m aware of the risks involved. I know it would be difficult but I would like to pursue this career” I let that hang, before my brain kicked in and saved me “Miss Church”

Miss Grimsby’s smile turned from one of false pride to one of patronising care. Like a mother who was at first faking being impressed by a child’s drawing and then preparing to get them ready for bed. I knew what was coming next.

“What does a pilot need to be good at flying Eddy?”

Second trap.

“An understanding of the concepts of flight, training with aircraft, calm demeanour and communication skills Mr Douglas”

He wrote a few notes down on his paper before pulling out a file underneath them. My name was printed on the top. It was his class notes, prepared for just such an occasion.

“Given my experience with you in my classroom I can’t really say you have a particularly calm demeanour.” He looked down a little further “And communication with your Amazon peers has been less than ideal.”

I bit my tongue. Of course it wasn’t, they were four or five years old.

Miss Grimsby looked over her own notes “That’s certainly an area of concern, do you think it shows you’re big enough to move up to Reception level Eddy?”

I had to choose my words carefully “I believe I have the skills needed to succeed at Reception level Miss Grimsby.”

“Yes, but do you think you’re big enough?”

The third trap. The question that no Little could feasibly answer well enough to proceed. Even knowing that I still had to put on a show for whatever report went up to the Head teacher.

“Yes Ma’am, I believe I’m big enough to go to Reception”

It’s indescribable how hard it is to sit there and tell someone that you’re definitely capable of working with five to six year olds, even ones who were all getting taller than you every day. But I had to do it.

“So, do big boys talk to each other and play nice?”

“Yes Miss Grimsby”

“And do you think that you’ve been doing that in Mr Douglas’ class?”

I grimaced, I had to at least push here “Yes Miss Grimsby”

Mr Douglas scoffed “Eddy you stick with your Little friends and barely come out of your corner to play.”

I felt my head fall without my consent. Dammit, don’t just let him prod you into the grave, make him work for it.

“I’ve tried many times to share and engage with my Amazon peers, but they often struggle to understand me, Mr Douglas”

He smirked. I’d hated the man from the moment he’d arrived a few years ago but he was taking particular pleasure in this that made me even more uncomfortable than normal.

“Your Amazon classmates are very clever Eddy, some are already in Reception now. Perhaps you can’t understand them, rather than the other way around…”

What a load of bull…

“At least they’re able to go to the bathroom for a start…”

There, the kill-shot. It was earlier than expected, but Mr Douglas was an impatient man. He did, however, receive disapproving glances from my other teachers as Miss Church cleared her throat.

“Eddy, we know you must feel big enough but we have to be able to see it.” Her voice was patient, tempered “I think you’re a pleasure to have in my class but I also have trouble seeing you succeeding with bigger kids”

“I worked hard to show improvement this year in the areas you identified Miss Church” I cleared my throat as my voice cracked at the end. Mr Douglas had already got my gears grinding.

“And I think you’ve done a very good job Eddy” she smiled “And for a Little I think you’re one of the best students we have but…” she looked over to Miss Grimsby, who nodded as if to grant permission.

“Your potty training and maths skills still need some work”

That was what I knew had been coming this whole time. Mathematics was a known weakness of mine, even if I was fine with the basic arithmetic required of a five year old I’d get caught out occasionally by tests here and there. Any Amazon child would be let off the hook for a one off mistake in the heat of a moment, for me it was like tightening a noose.

But potty training? That was a farce. At home I used the bathroom, no issues whatsoever with my ability to hold and release whenever I chose. But in the classroom I was given no ability to go at a time of my choosing. Diapers were a required part of our uniforms, with the other elements being a plain white polo shirt and grey elasticated shorts. Whenever a Little felt the call of nature and asked to be excused, they had to be supervised, kept close to teachers to ensure they didn’t “make a mess”. Most of the time there was one teacher in the room, who was never focussed on the Littles but instead on the Amazons. They asked, they got to go on their own to the bathroom next door without any oversight. We would ask, we would be told to wait. We would say we needed to go urgently, we would be told to “be big” and hold it while they helped the teacher’s pet of the day.

And then inevitably our diapers would swell, a smell would follow us around or our gait would become visibly more waddle-like and the teacher would sigh and act like we’d disappointed them.

Mr Douglas pulled out a pile of colourful sheets from the file, a tag in the corner connecting up the laminated paper covered in stickers.

“I think his potty training chart from last year speaks for itself” he handed it to the others. Miss Grimsby shook her head as she passed it to Miss Church. For the first time I saw a genuine look of disappointment cross her face.

“Oh dear… I have to say Mr Douglas his record in my class is exemplary by Little standards”

I had to actively force a feeling of pride to stop welling up. That was a backhanded compliment, no matter how much it wanted to make me smile. I’d learned Miss Church’s routine, found the right times to ask. While my record was by no means spotless it was far better than most.

“His record in mine is also strong by Little standards” Miss Grimsby noted, a look of concern now present “Are you struggling to go potty in Mr Douglas’ class Eddy?”

“Yes Ma’am” I answered honestly.

“Can you explain why?” Miss Church followed up.

I breathed out slowly. There was a crossroads presenting itself in my mind, either I took the route of a coward, but a good boy, or I took the route of dying on my own pathetic hill and going out with a bang.

My rational brain lost that fight. I chose the latter option.

“Mr Douglas does not treat Littles fairly in his class Miss Church”

There are times in conversation where a grenade feels like it’s just been launched into the room. The silence that follows the words means they repeat like white noise in the ears of the receivers. I could see what it was doing to Miss Church and Miss Grimsby, both of whom had fully raised eyebrows.

Mr Douglas, however, was well beyond that.

“Eddy, that’s ridiculous.” His face was starting to go red. He wanted to say so much more, add so much more anger to his words. Teacher training was throwing up just enough barriers to keep them at bay. “It’s very immature to accuse your teachers of unfair treatment, especially at your age”

“I’m eighteen, Mr Douglas”

Big mistake.

“You have been given the opportunity to move up to Reception every year for fourteen years, Eddy. In that time we can pull up every potty chart you’ve ever had. Do eighteen year old Amazons still have rain clouds every week?” he was seething. Talking back was not going to help me, nor was answering that question.

Miss Church looked at me and sighed “Eddy all Littles struggle with the potty, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Miss Grimsby and I are very proud of your work this year but if you can’t do it everywhere it’s not what big boys do”

Screw it, this was the last year anyway before I had to run and hide from all this nonsense.

“Ma’am, Mr Douglas refuses to allow myself or my other Little peers to use the potty at any time during his lessons. We require supervision, but he has never once from what I remember given any of us the opportunity to…”

“This is absurd” Mr Douglas interrupted “I have to end up changing you after you’ve pooped your Monkees in plain view of the rest of the class, I certainly have the time to…”

“John, please” Miss Church’s voice was stern as it interrupted her colleague. My eyebrows raised this time, it was highly unusual for a teacher to use first names, especially in a setting like this.

Mr Douglas cleared his throat “Apologies. My point is I do make time for my Little students.”

“Ma’am, I object to that accusation. You can pull up my charts, I’ve never pooped my diapers in Mr Douglas’ class.”

One small opening had decided to give itself to me. I knew I was right and he knew it as well. I didn’t poop my diapers if I could avoid it. The occasional moment of bowel weakness from a difficult meal aside it just didn’t happen. Miss Grimsby and Miss Church both gave my chart a quick skim.

“Eddy, we’ve noted already that we’re very proud of your progress in our class but we trust Mr Douglas to have given you the time to go potty” Miss Grimsbys face was taught, strained by her frustration with both student and colleague.

At this point, I can’t really say what took over. Maybe it was the feeling that I could get something, however small, out of this madness. Maybe I was the one that went mad…

“Ma’am, Mr Douglas doesn’t even know which of us is using our diapers for what. Littles all struggle to use the potty in his class because he doesn’t give us the opportunity. You and Miss Church both give us that chance.”

I’d done it now. Several lines had just been crossed. I’d questioned the competence of my teacher, the way he runs his class and clearly made a comparison between him and others.

But what came next I certainly didn’t expect.

“Fine” Mr Douglas stood up and walked over to the side of the room, opening one of the lower cabinets. Out of it he pulled something that I hadn’t seen for years.

“Prove it. Sit down here and go potty like a good Little boy”

The white bowl, emblazoned as it was with the school logo, stared back at me like a mythical beast that had just been ripped from its moorings. There was normally no need for this to come out except for demonstration purposes. It was a prop, a thing that was used for a one off show when parents visited for open days. I’d never seen it used for its intended purpose.

“Mr Douglas! Eddy you don’t have to, this is not part of the te...”

I stood up and dropped my pants to the ground, walking directly forward over them. At this point I can only assume I had gone mad, or was so drunk with the potential joy of showing up the bastard that all sane options had left the building.

“Ma’am, can you please undo my tapes.” I kept my voice surprisingly calm, trying to ask the same way I did every time Miss Grimsby took me to the bathroom.

She sat there aghast. My face was at just about her eye level and I could see she was fighting her own battle. Let this go on, or let it happen.

To my surprise she sighed, leant forward in her chair and with two deft motions loosened the tapes just enough to let the crinkling underwear fall to the ground at my feet. She just nodded at me as I carefully stepped out of it.

“Thank you Miss Grimsby”

“You’re welcome Eddy” her face was still stuck in stunned awe of the situation.

I sat down on the bowl. I was a little too big for the thing, but thankfully not so much that anything could escape. I would never get any bigger, but it was a nice feeling to know I didn’t fit properly on a typical Amazon potty anymore.

The sound of water hitting the plastic interior of the bowl was like music to my ears. For the first time in one of these damn meetings I felt like a winner. No matter what Mr Douglas said at this point, no matter what the result of this was, I’d won a battle. Shown him up just once, just enough to get an audible growl as he saw me relaxing on the plastic seat.

Once I was finished I looked back up at the three of my teachers. They’d all seen me in this position before, nothing I was doing should have been a surprise but all of them looked like a bomb had just gone off. I stood up and looked at Mr Douglas, giving him a grin.

“Mr Douglas, would you please help me wipe?”

“You stupid Little!” he stood back up, his hands in fists. My grin vanished, replaced only by a sudden sense of fear that made me step backwards.

Of course, that’s where the potty was still situated.

With a horrendous crash I went backwards over it, the bowl throwing its contents over the floor as I fell onto my now completed unprotected butt onto the linoleum of the classroom. Carpet burn was the first feeling that threw itself at my brain, a horrible one that made me wince as I tried to get back to my feet.

“Eddy! Oh goodness are you ok hun?” Miss Church had run over to me, my diaper having been picked up on the way “Hold still and I’ll get you back into your Monkees”

“John, sit down!” I heard Miss Grimsby’s voice echoing around the room “What are you doing?! I can’t believe you just…”

“He’s a stupid damn Little! I will not have my competence questioned by a diapered brat!”

The diaper he was referring to was back on in a flash, the tapes feeling a little loose but otherwise stable enough to stick for a while. Miss Church helped me to my feet before finding my shorts.

“Oh dear… I don’t think you can go home in these shorts Eddy” she showed them to me. Sure enough they were soaked, pee from my little demonstration having soaked into the legs as the puddle had spread across the floor towards them.

Behind her Miss Grimsby had Mr Douglas back in his seat and was standing over him. I would’ve loved to have heard what she was saying to him, but Miss Church took my hand and started pulling me towards the exit before my ears could get a read on any of it. Whatever I’d just started, it was clearly not going well for my least favourite teacher.

“Let’s get you a new pair of shorts. I think we’ll try the Reception Opportunity Test another day…”

I couldn’t contain the grin on my face as we left the classroom. Maybe the last year of school wasn’t so set in stone after all…