I Only Have Lice For You, Dear

We traveled in a caravan of seven cars containing 16 students, 8 parents, and 4 teachers. Packed into the nooks and crannies of each vehicle were backpacks, sleeping bags, props for a play, and enough candy and cookies to feed a herd of elephants. We were heading back to the North Cascades Institute for a reflective time in the mountains. As the school year ends, we thought a trip back to the place where we kicked off the year was a wonderful way to come full circle, to think back on all we'd done together inside and outside the classroom, but also a way to send this group of students off in a positive direction.

But...

...the best laid plans of lice and men...

We knew two students had been treated for lice before we left. We decided to go anyway, reassured that all the parents had inspected their children for the pesky pests. By the evening of the first night, the lice dam broke and we stood over seated girls checking each and every strand for eggs and bugs. By the afternoon of the second day, the trip was not about reflection, but inspection. The trip was not about saying goodbye, but about saying oh my!

And then we were asked to leave by the fine folks of NCI. We understood. We'd talked about leaving ourselves, but their request sealed the deal. The girls were disappointed. We were disappointed, too, but when 10 of the 16 girls ended up with lice and one of our faculty (not me!) we knew it was the best move on our part.

So we packed up those 7 cars again -- all the luggage, all the props, all the sleeping bags and pillows now stuffed in garbage sacks in hopes that the bugs would not migrate on our 4 hour drive home.

Today and tomorrow we have the day off. We're hoping parents will now take this infestation more seriously and inspect and pick and treat their kids more thoroughly and obsessively so we can rid ourselves of the lice.

It was an interesting trip, to say the least. Usually we don't take parents on overnights. I, in fact, hate taking the parents with us. The kids change. They lose their strength around their mothers or their fathers. They do not know how to persevere with a parent close by. They grow grumpy and sullen and manipulative. While it's interesting to watch the interactions, it becomes even more evident where the student obtained their particular habits.

For instance, when the infestation made itself evident, one mother flipped out, whirling herself into a panic. Her daughter assumed the role of the parent and the parent let her! This is a student who has struggled staying focused. She always asks a question we've just answered because she does not tune in and listen. Now I know why...she is focused on other things ... like a mother who is germ-obsessed and a father who is irrationally angry. She checks out at school because it's safer...it's how she's learned to be in the world. It all makes complete sense now after watching her attend to her mother's hysteria.

Another parent removed himself from all the activity. The mothers and teachers (all female) inspected heads, answered questions, massaged in treatment, cleaned sheets, and bagged up pillows. And then, moments before we left for home he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?" His daughter checked out as well, sitting in a corner, her head wrapped in a towel reading a book for hours and hours. She was one of the worst cases -- the eggs and lice thick in her long strands of brown hair. "We treated her," said the father. "I don't understand why they're still there?"

"Did you pick them out the next day and the next?" a mother asked.

"No, why would I do that?"

All the mothers rolled their eyes. "You have to be vigilant," responded the mother. "You have to nit-pick for at least a week to really get rid of them all."

The father just stared at the mother in disbelief.

It's funny. He's an extremely well-educated man, but he lives in his head (just like his daughter) and while he may be familiar with tort-reform (he's an attorney), he has no understanding of anything earthly -- and I mean this in every sense of the word. He literally floats through life above it all, exerting his privilege (intellectual and financial) without any awareness of his impact on other people.

Meanwhile, we had mothers who dove in the moment the girls started scratching. One mother in particular spent hours upon hours meticulously working her way through each child's head. The first night, she stayed up until midnight, delousing the victims. We would have been lost without her.

In a way, I'm glad to be home. 48 hours with 11-year olds is exhausting. 48 hours with 11-year olds, their parents, and a thousand louse (lice?) deserves a day or two off.

The year is almost over. After years of experience I know the days will go unbearably slow. There are many demands outside the classroom as well -- budget requests, scheduling decisions, cleaning, etc. -- that only add to the stress of the final days. I'm trying not to focus on the number of days and hours left, but it's hard. For the next 6 days it will be me, 16 girls, and random louse (lice?) moving ahead...one step at a time.