Laura and the Soap Dispenser

I woke up this morning and lay in bed smiling to myself about a long-ago incident.  The kind of incident that only happens to the parent of an unusually impulsive child.  The “child” is now in her forties, and I don’t think the telling of this will upset her.

When Laura was in middle school, the phone rang one day.  I heard the school nurse’s sweet but somewhat hesitant voice.  “Mrs. Chapin… we don’t think there are going to be any bad outcomes from this, but the principal asked me to call you and tell you what happened today.  Laura got her arm stuck in a soap dispenser.  She doesn’t appear to be injured, but we did have to dismantle the soap dispenser to get her out.”

I was not the least bit upset by this, because there was already quite a history of “incidents.”  If an idea passed through Laura’s head, she was already doing it with no thought as to the consequences.  My friends used to say, “you could write a book!”  I didn’t ask the nurse any questions, because I figured I would get the detailed report from Laura herself.

I should probably set the scene for you.  When the school was built, the open concept idea was in vogue.  Each of the wings of the building, which had multiple classrooms, was built without dividing walls.  There were rows of low bookcases sectioning the large area into classrooms, but anyone standing up could see the entire wing of the building.  The lavatory stalls were in an enclosed area, but the sink was out in the open and visible.  It was a large round affair with water spurting out all 360 degrees.  The soap dispenser was in the middle of the sink and a bit raised.  It had a plastic lid with holes to allow air to enter and equalize pressure as soap was dispensed.  These holes were larger than they needed to be. Unfortunately, they were large enough for a child’s arm…specifically for Laura’s arm.

Laura reported that after using the lavatory, she went out to wash her hands.  Another little girl was standing there very distressed, because she had dropped her barrette into the soap dispenser and didn’t know how to get it out.  Laura often got herself in trouble in a genuine but misguided attempt to be helpful.  So, she plunged her arm through the hole to try to retrieve the barrette.  She couldn’t quite reach it and pushed her arm in further.  Eventually she realized her arm was stuck.

According to Laura, the first teacher who passed her just shrugged and said, “I’m going to leave you there.”  I suppose given the open classroom concept, every teacher in the wing knew her and figured as long as she was trapped, they at least knew where she was and what she was doing.

Others did, however, come to the rescue.  Before the incident was resolved, the principal, the assistant principal, the school nurse, and assorted maintenance men had gathered in the attempt to extract her.  They tried rubbing soap on her arm.  Then an attempt was made with Vaseline.  After the greasing and various contortions, a maintenance man finally went and got a hacksaw blade.  He carefully slid the blade in next to her arm and sawed outward releasing her arm but destroying the lid of the dispenser.

The arm was neither bruised nor scraped, so I figured that was the end of it.  I didn’t think the school would bill us for the cost of the soap dispenser.  However, Watertown is a small city and stories spread quickly.  I discovered on Sunday that the incident was now part of local legend, as a church friend approached me laughing.

At the time, Watertown hosted the Miss New York State pageant.  My friend had the prior week attended a luncheon for pageant hostesses.  One of the attendees sitting at her table was a middle school teacher, who told a hysterically funny story about a student getting her arm stuck in a soap dispenser.  My friend said, “As soon as she said the child’s name was Laura, I knew it had to be your Laura.”

Ah, yes.  If you manage to keep the kid alive, an impulsive child makes life very interesting, and when you are an old lady, you may find yourself chuckling.