Lice, Lice, Baby

My first experience in the teaching profession was at an old three story building. It was rather quaint and did not appear to be a school in the least. The children were loving and sweet, but they were also very needy. It was a lower income, underprivileged area. One little boy saw my toothbrush in my purse and said, "Hey, that is what I use to clean my toilets." Surely it was not being used on his teeth. There were some that looked as if they had not had a bath in weeks. For others, they wore the same dingey clothing day after day. I wondered if the students had ever been properly instructed on being well- groomed. I had heard that the health department would take children from their home until things were cleaned up in their household. That was a harsh reality for me and the desire to care for them increased a hundredfold.

There was one adorable girl with long straight hair. She would love to stay in at recess and visit. She saw my brush sticking out of my purse and said, "Miss Hart, can I brush your hair?"(an absolutely unthinkable request and answer in this day and age.)  I thought, what the heck? I knew it would feel wonderful...and it was just that and more. I felt rejeuvenated. The bell rang and so I went to bring my students in from outside. When I returned with the students, the young girl was brushing her hair with my brush. EEeegads I thought in the moment...but that thought was fleeting into oblivion...

A couple days later, our principal  put a memo out to all teachers for a head lice check. Can you even believe I had an inservice on how to check for head lice? They didn't teach that in college...(May I clear up one very important myth... lice does not discriminate. You do not have to be impoverished, living in dastardly conditions, or unkempt. Lice can effect every background and anyone.) It made me feel itchy all over the moment I learned head lice was on the loose.  I felt especially concerned to know that I had the older sibling in my vicinity, my class, in which the younger sibling brought about this extracurricular activity. I donned my gloves and chopsticks in hand to accomplish the tedious task of searching 30 heads for the culprit...lice.

This turned out to be a humbling and disparaging activity. Clearly, these students did not have the same grooming standards in which I had as a child. There were sores and smells that made me quiver. How I longed to take these children home, wash their clothes, have them shower with soap and shampoo, and provide them with the means to maintain this level of cleanliness.

I was nearing the end of my search. Here I was, nose to head in this young girl's beautiful long hair. I saw what appeared to be little white eggs attached to strands of her hair. I excused her from class to be checked by the experts in the field. Sure enough, I was given a bag to put her things into and off she went to proceed with an at home treatment.

The realization hit as I removed my gloves...this is the same young girl that brushed my hair...that brushed her hair...that I have since used! The itching (power of suggestion) went rampid all over my body. I hurried down to the experts...Yeparooni... guilty as charged. I had lice AND their eggs. I was given a bag to gather my things, excused to go home and perform the lice treatment...not to return until the RID had done it's job...kill the lice and eggs. As I made that long drive to the pharmacy, I knew what was aHEAD (throw in a play on words):

   *wash with RID again and again, and with each wash take the Barbie comb and comb through my hair
   *remove and wash the bedding,
   *spray the furniture, the phone, hair devices and the car,
   *throw away old brushes and purchase new ones,
   *put my clothes in a plastic bag for the length it took for a lice's demise,
   *provide a substitute with lesson plans and on and on...
   *avoid personal contact and interaction
CHECK I completed all of the above, but that was not the end to this story...