There I was in third grade. I had on long pants and a boys shirt. It was a Catholic School and they had strict rules on young children being toilet trained. I wasn't. The minute I came home from school I was in diapers & rubber pants because I wet & pooped myself constantly. Our classroom was rather large. It overflowed with baby boomer children. I was smack in the middle of my classmates when I felt my bowels erupting. It made noises, including a reverberation on the seat as gush after gush of hot poop filled my diaper and rubber pants. It ran past the elastics of the rubber pants and the stench was terrible. The kids around me left their desks holding their nose. They pointed at me and told the nun "He pooped his pants. She came right to my desk , hitting me with her ruler whlie  she was screaming at me calling me "A disgusting dirty pig". It was running down my pant leg on to my shoes & the floor. She make me wipe it all up with tissues and put it in a bag. She grabbed me by the ear and brought me to the office. The minute I entered everyone held their nose and the custodian was dispatched to my classroom to finish cleaning the mess there and along my poop trail to the office. My sisters were in the same school and word traveled quickly among the students how I crapped my pants. My mother was called on the phone. And before I left the office with my mother, the school principle made my mother promise to remedy the situation. This included putting me in diapers. I was already in diapers, nobody knew that except family. We left school and got in the car sitting on a towel. My mother rolled down all the windows.  She admonished me, "I don't know what I'm going to do with you, wait until your father hears about this". My father was a huge intimidating figure who beat me terribly. He told my mother "we should have had all girls". I began my crap filled waddle from the car to the house. The wet crap on the inner fabric of my pants sticking to my leg. My mother took me by the hand. At the same time, our upstairs neighbor joined us walking to the door. She noticed my waddle and smelled the telltale full diaper smell. She told my mother, "There's only one way to cure him of crapping his pants, shame him. Make him sit out here on the front stoop wearing a diaper and a dress. Get him dressed up all pretty for his friends to see. Leave him outside the whole day until he promises never to do it again".