Being an elementary school principal in New York City is filled with many challenges but never would I have imagined that the human head louse would rank among the most formidable. Concerning the current New York City Department of Education policy that prohibits students with lice from attending school, I too scratch my head, but in thought (so far).
The opinions about lice are varied. Some counsel me to refuse entry to those afflicted. After all, as one parent framed it, “lice are contagious.” The rhinovirus is contagious too, I think, but if every child with a runny nose went home, my school would be empty. Others relegate lice to the gantlet that is elementary school, conflating the ritual of special shampoo and nit combs with other inevitable school-borne displeasures like teasing and test anxiety. The truth is, lice existed when I was a child. So did the stigma. This parasite has been around for millennia and is not going anywhere quickly, except from one head to the next. They are a part of the human condition, and despite our best efforts, a part of school, too.
They are also part of my job. The ritual goes as such: the itchy-headed are sent to my office, not the nurse’s. Office staffers, including me, look for lice and nits. If lice are found, the child does not return to class; if nits are found, a letter is sent home.
But no matter the outcome, the condition perpetuates. Sooner or later another student will visit the principal’s office, and not for disciplinary reasons. Recently, a second-grader said to me: “They jump in my hair because they can camouflage in its color.” Although his understanding of natural selection impressed me, I corrected the error that lice don’t jump, nor do they fly. Survival of the fittest or not, lice thrive by clamping onto strands of hair and climbing them, like ropes, to the scalp, leaving sticky eggs in their wake.
I am an educator at heart and am happy to expose myths, even ones as disconcerting as lice. I am less happy, though, about students missing school.
