Public Peeing in Paris

Let’s face it. We all do it. We just don’t all do it in public.

Introducing Paris, France and her lovely outdoor urinals for men:

To see a lot more details about how this baby works, go here:  Public Peeing.

Basically, a guy sidles up to the trash-can-like device and pees inside. The pee lands on the straw that is used for composting. I just gotta say, I don’t envy the people who get to change those out every 300 pees.

Why, you ask, is Karla discussing Public Peeing in Paris? First of all, Public Peeing in Paris has such a delightful alliteration, it should almost be the title of a children’s book, don’t you think?  But that’s not why I’m writing about it.

I’m writing about it because this year at my middle school I am now the behavior skills teacher for middle schoolers. That’s translation for I get to teach students who struggle with how to be nice. Yay me! And guess which gender of student I have the most of? You got it. Hormonal, testosterone-flushed boys. Boys that I am to mold into young adults with better self-management skills than they had before they met me.

Public Peeing in Paris doesn’t give me much hope. I mean, if grown men don’t have enough self-control to hold their urine, one of the very first self-regulation skills we teach a toddler, is there much hope for me as a middle school behavior skills teacher?

I know, I know. There is a lot more background to this story. According to Napolean, France has long had problems with les pipi sawages (wild peeing). Couple that with the immigration of cultures who just naturally pee when they feel the urge, and well, you’ve got a real need for pee places disguised as flower pots.

Just kind of wish I hadn’t found this out right before school starts tomorrow.

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