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Sitting on the Throne
by Don Drewniak

I was fresh from having graduated college with a B.S. in BS or something similar in 1965. After doing nothing for two months, I was running low on cash and opted to take a position as a sixth-grade teacher in a small town in Massachusetts.

A twenty-minute recess followed sixth-grade lunch. I drew outdoor recess once or twice a week weather permitting. A second teacher was on duty with me. This allowed me to play basketball with some of the students. I was playing on a very hot and humid day during the fouth week of the school year.

Male faculty members were required to wear long-sleeve white shirts and narrow ties. I was covered with sweat when the end-of-recess bell rang, and hurriedly asked the other teacher on duty to bring the kids back into the school. It was off to the only faculty room.

The room was small and had just enough square footage for a couch, a chair and a small wooden table with a coffee pot on it. A tiny restroom containing only a toilet and a World War I vintage sink was positioned at one end of the room. The toilet faced the restroom door which in my haste I pulled open without giving it a second thought.


Sitting on the throne was Miss Cotter, a first-year fifth grade teacher. Both her skirt and panties were around her ankles. To make matters worse, we both froze for a few seconds until I came to my senses and closed the door. Needless to say, I was highly distracted during the afternoon’s teaching. I didn’t want to have to dwell overnight on what happened, so I decided to offer an apology as soon as the students were gone for the day.

I knocked on her door.

“Come in.”

She was sitting at her desk. I stopped ten feet away.

“Miss Cotter…”


“Jane, I apologize. I should have knocked.”

“And I should have locked the door. Don’t worry about it. You’re not the first guy to see me with my panties down.”

My brain turned to mush. I have no remembrance of what I said in return. Most likely, I sounded like a blithering idiot.

We became good friends throughout the rest of the school year. When I returned for year two, Jane was gone. Another faculty member said that she had traveled to Hawaii for a two-week vacation. While there, she wired her parents asking to have some of her clothing shipped to her. She accepted a teaching position on The Big Island.