i js wanna go to the bathroom😭

Asked my teacher to go to the bathroom and except my request but it took her five minutes to except and I was still holding it but as I was waking out the school bully perrell brown was blocking me and I didn’t make it as the brown liquid seeped down my pant leg my classmates couldn’t help but laugh. I ended up getting carried out the classroom by the school nurse and put into a hospital and spent another day and 1/2 there, my reputation in the school is ruined. Don’t use this app!!

my place of education made use use this app and personally i think that it wastes my learning time by wasting time to not only create this e hall pass but to also closing it out.Another thing is that students will be tempted by there cellular devices also taking away time.imagine the people that can’t afford a phone they will feel bad bc they have to ask the teacher this app is very difficult to use and is a waste of time

matt likes little girls and he touched me innapropriatly, please get him off of the show and get a new host.

Hello redditers my school has become literally ohio my karen of a teacher ms shelly has refused my pass to the bathroom she said gooning wasnt a valid reason!!! AITA?

Amazing

WORSE INVENTION EVER TOTAL POO POO!!!

"Hogwarts, too?" A familiar voice caught Harry's attention, and the noise around him seemed to quiet ever so slightly as he turned. Malfoy, with dark shadows under his eyes and looking thinner and pointier than ever, was standing across the way, looking like he'd just come out of Ollivander's. Harry tilts his head slightly. He'd heard Malfoy would be taking the vacated Potions professorship, as Slughorn had stepped down after the war. "Uh, yes." He says vaguely. "I've just come from looking at wands." Malfoy says casually, as if they're not standing across an entire street from each other, people milling about between them shooting them odd looks. Harry refuses to be the one to cross over, though. It's a matter of principle over practical. "Oh." Harry says, wondering where to go from here. "You didn't get yours back, then?" "Snapped, I'm afraid." Malfoy says, and doesn't elaborate. Harry knew for a fact when he gave it to the Ministry to return to Malfoy, it had been intact. "What a shame. It was a good wand." Harry says. "I thought so too." Malfoy replies. He puts his hands into his pockets. "Think I might buy a broom, smuggle it into Hogwarts." Harry suddenly, jarringly, realises that this conversation is a strange mirror of their first, in Malkin's robe shop. It's probably Malfoy's intent, actually. "I have my own, now." Harry says, straining to remember what they'd talked about. It felt like a lifetime ago, and he supposed technically, it was. Malfoy seems a bit surprised, but not displeased, by Harry's response. "Play Quidditch, do you?" He says back. "I do." "Father says..." Malfoy's mouth quirks up slightly, a sort of humorless smile. "Well, I suppose you know what he'd say." Harry gives a noncommittal gesture, unsure of what they talked about after this. He's surprised when Malfoy takes a step closer. "Is it true? They're saying that Harry Potter's come to teach at Hogwarts. So it's you, is it?" He says, his smile turning a bit more genuine now. "Yes." Harry says. Malfoy crosses the street then, not looking either way and just somehow not jostling the people walking the other directions. Curious eyes follow him as he's recognised, and more when they realise he's heading toward Harry, who hasn't moved. "My name's Draco. Draco Malfoy." He says, holding his hand out. It has a slight tremor to it now, one Harry'd noticed ever since that night in the Astronomy tower. Harry doesn't hesitate this time. He takes Malfoy's - Draco's - hand, shaking it firmly

My balls itch

at the lar eld of town where tre Glickle grass grows and the wind smells slow-and-sour when it blows and no birds ever sing excepting old crows... is the Street of the lifted Lorax. And deep in the Grickle-grass, some people say, if you look deep enough you can still see, today, where the Lorax once stood just as long as it could before somebody lifted the Lorax away. What was the Lorax? Any why was it there? And why was it lifted and taken somewhere from the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows? The old Once-ler still lives here. Ask him, he knows. You won't see the Once-ler. Don't knock at his door. He stays in his Lerkim on top of his store. He stays in his Lerkim, cold under the floor, where he makes his own clothes out of miff-muffered moof. And on special dank midnights in August, he peeks out of the shutters and sometimes he speaks and tells how the Lorax was lifted away. He'll tell you, perhaps.. if you're willing to pay. On the end of a rope he lets down a tin pail and you have to toss in fifteen cents and a nail and the shell of a great-great-great- grandfather snail. Then he pulls up the pail, makes a most careful count to see if you've paid him the proD- amount. Then he hides what you paid him away in his Snuvv, his secret strange hole in his gruvvulous glove. Then he grunts. I will call you by Whisper-ma-Phone, for the secrets I tell you are for your ears alone SLUPP Down slupps the Whisper-ma-Phone to your ear and the old Once-ler's whispers are not very cleac, since they have to come down through a snergelly hose, and he sounds as if he had smallish bees up his nose. Now I'll tell you, he says, with his leeth sounding gray, how the Lorax got lifted and taken away... It all started way back... such a long, long time back... Way back in the days when the grass was still green and the pond was still wet and the clouds were still clean, and the song of the Swomee-Swans rang out in space... one morning, I came to this glorious place. And I first saw the trees! The Truffula Trees! The bright-colored tufts of the Truffula Trees! Mile after mile in the fresh morning breeze. And under the trees, I saw Brown Bar-ba-loots frisking about in their Bar-ba-loot suits as the played in the shade and ate Truffula Fruits. From the rippulous pond came the comfortable sound of the Humming-Fish humming while splashing around. But those tres! Those frons! Those Truffula Trons! All my life I'd been searching for trees such as these. The touch of their tuft