>Be in 5th grade
>Go into the bathroom to do bathroom stuff (This is the girls room because I am girl)
>In each stall there are these metal bins that I'm guessing were used to hold toilet paper, but were empty
>Somebody has left their poops in the metal bin on the wall
>Think this is a strange one time thing
>It's not
>At least every week there are new poops in the metal bin in the stall
>Thinking I can outsmart this "poopgirl" I change up stalls
>She changes up stalls too!
>You never know which stall is going to have the poops in it.
>The school says nothing about this
>They likely don't want to draw attention to poopgirl, as that might start a revolution or some shit
>However, the school did know about poopgirl, and did something to stop her
>Go into bathroom the next week
>All the metal bins are covered up with cardboard and packing tape
>Those fools think this can stop poopgirl
>Poops are just left around the stall, behind the toilet, on top of the toilet paper dispenser
>Far as I knew poopgirl only hit up that one bathroom
Be in 5th grade
>School obviously knew about poopgirl, having tried to stop her
>However they never put up much of an effort to catch her
>Putting the poops in the metal bin was obviously not poopgirl's whole MO
>It wasnt about the bin. I guess it was about the poops
>At this time I was in special ed because of mental illness
>Never were any of the special ed kids interrogated about poopgirl
>Even though, the first culprit you suspect in a case like this is the special ed kids
>Teacher once made a reference to poopgirl, telling me about somebody was leaving their poops in the bathroom
>She told it to me like it was this secret
>Everybody knew about poopgirl, but everyone kept their mouth shut about her
>I genuinely don't think poopgirl was one of the special ed kids
>She must have been one of the "normal" kids
>To this day, I wonder what her motive was
>What kind of statement she wanted to make
>Every day I walked the halls
>Did I run into her?
>Did I know her?
>These questions kept me up at night
>It's the end of 5th grade
>Come back next year for 6th grade
>No activity from poopgirl, every bathroom is empty of her poops
>Either poopgirl was a 6th grader, or she switched schools. (Or she just stopped doing stuff with her poops)
>I think she switched schools or stopped, as when I got to Jr. High there was no evidence of poopgirl
>Still wonder about her to this day
That's the basics of the story. I have all sorts of stories about being in special ed though.
please continue op
Plot twist: maybe you were a schizoid during childhood and you were poopgirl? You seem pretty intelligent to me. Why were you in sped?
Sped classes are not always full of retards, many times there are people who just have emotional or social problems as well.
I was on various anti depressants and anxiety meds due to depression, anxiety and OCD
When I was in 4th grade I got kicked out of my school because I hallucinated and thought a man was trying to knife me
After that I was put into special ed.
bump
aaa op story pls
Eventually, I went to a different school for high school and was no longer in special ed. I just graduated from college and all that, so I'm quite the success story in terms of special ed kids
>I have all sorts of stories about being in special ed though.
please type
Ok post tits now
>This is the girls room because I am girl
Tit's TimeStamp or GTFO
>Special Ed
>Emotional or Social Problems
Sounds pretty hot tbh
(Me)
Also this:
Fuck, made my day op
op are you typing?
poopgirl is obviously an Indian emmigrant
>move to OP's nation
>need to poop
>look for designated shitting street
>told to use designated shitting room
>go in
>see nice porcelain water bowl and metal box
>no poop on ground
>decide the metal boxes are for pooping in as there is no poop on the floor and the water bowl is way to nice to put poop in
>go to poop one day
>poop boxes are sealed
>not know what to do
>poop on floor
Ok new story
>Be in 6th grade
>There's a new head special ed teacher
>Let's call her Ms. Cold
>Ms. Cold is always in a peppy mood and likes to dress nice
>From time to time, out of nowhere she'd be like "Hey user, do you want a juice box?" or "hey user how about you take 5 minutes and build something with the therapy legos"
>I didn't think much of this at first, but as time went on, something about it grated at me
>During my weekly therapy sessions I start getting curious about how my doctor became a doctor
>He tells me about the stuff he did in college
>One of the things he did involved rats
>I fucking love animals, so I was all over learning about these rats
>Apparently, there are many ways to encourage behaviors in rats
>Say for example, you want the rat to press a button
>The rat isn't smart enough that you can tell it to press the button
>so, what you do is that you wait for the rat to press the button on its own. Then, you reward that behavior
>waitafuckingminute.png
>I realize this is what Ms. Cold is doing to me
>She's treating me like a rat
>I am quite upset about this
>I go the next day to confront her
>Important to note, when I was in 6th grade I was always eating apples
>I had an apple when I went in to confront her
>I told her that what she was doing wasn't cool, and that I wasn't her rat
>She looks at me with one of her big calm Ms. Cold smiles and goes "user I have no idea what you're talking about"
>I re-state my case, going over the evidence
>Her smile falters. She says, "It doesn't have to be like this user. We can go back to having juice and lego time"
>I'm real mad
>I take my apple, and I whip it at her head
>She ducks like a pro
>The apple shatters against the clock on the wall
>I'm taken into the special restraining room where I'm held in place against my will by her
>I forgot what happened immediately after this
>I never looked at Ms. Cold the say way again
>I hated her
>I felt that she didn't respect me
>I still hate her
It's actually pretty good to treat yourself like a rat, because deep down inside, we're all rats.
It helps us when we reward ourselves for things we did right, and punish ourselves for things we did wrong.
no closure? you just dont remember what happened?
i vote touched by ms.cold
This might be a good time to talk about the special restraining room.
When a special ed kids gets out of control, they go into the room. Sometimes it's bad enough that the kid has to be forcibly restrained. It is quite humiliating and dehumanizing.
I was a weird kid, even for special ed standards. So when they didn't know what to do with me, they put me in the room.
When I was in the room, my first goal was to escape. See, going in the room is like the most trouble you can get into.
My coping mechanism for when people treat me badly is rather flawed. I go "Oh, you think I'm a crazy person?! I'll show you a crazy person!"
So when they lock me in the room like a crazy person, I act like a crazy person. Rather flawed logic, I know.
When I was in the room, my first goal was to escape. I never got far.
Eventually it became less about escaping, and more about hurting those that put me in the room.
All that shit they say about not letting prisoners have shoes because they will use them as weapons? It's true. I turned anything into a weapon.
They treated me like an animal, and that's what I became.
Had they not jumped to putting me in the room, I wouldn't have been violent or nearly as angry. I know this because in 7th and 8th grade I was at a different school where the special ed teacher didn't restrain me. This was because he was a 40 something year old man, and I was a 13 year old girl.
7th and 8th grade special ed teacher changed my life. I owe him so much