Boogers and cooties

Boogies, boogers: found in the nose and is the result of drying of the normally viscous colloidal muscus, more commonly known as “snot”.

I used to work with a person who picked his nose. He was a multi-tasker. He would pick his nose while he was amending a mechanical drawing. He would pick his nose during client meetings. He would pick his nose while he was speaking, face-to-face, with others. His nose-picking was so repulsive to me, I went to our Project Manager and asked what could be done about the problem. Believe it or not, the PM told me snot, and nose-picking, wasn’t life threatening. He also told me it was a cultural thing. Mr. B. told me I should just ignore the nasal excavating because he was the best engineer on the project and “we can’t afford to lose him”. I was curious about “a cultural thing” because not every Brit I knew spent so much time engaged such in-depth projects. In a single blow, the PM had tissue-freed a whole nation. Needless to say, I couldn’t ignore the picker. I worked closely with him every single day of the work week. I gagged whenever he engaged in nasal probes and investigative digs, and wondered what happened to the detritus. Every time he and I went to a client meeting, I made sure he carried, and handled, the drawings and printouts. I figured those papers had to be covered in booger residue. It’s all about the ick-factor for me. During my 18 months on site, the picking never let up and the revulsion toward the act slowly changed to intense dislike of the nose-picker. When I was invited to work on another project, I asked if the nose-picker was going to be the on-site mechanical engineer. The answer “yes” made me decline the offer. I know, I know, I’m a shallow person. But I’d had enough. I loved the work. I hated the atmosphere. My point is, and I do have one, someone could have made that workplace a lot less disgusting if they’d just taken the fellow aside and let him know how revolting his personal habit was. Thank goodness the engineer didn’t have head lice.

Speaking of head lice, how about those Pediculus Humanus Capitis?

Head lice are obligate ectoparasites that cause pediculosis. Cooties. Head lice are wingless insects that spend their entire life on the human scalp, feeding exclusively on human blood.

In case you’re wondering, I find head lice to be just a flick more revolting than nosepicking. Lice are definitely more stomach churning and creepy. From what I can tell, some of my friends feel the same way, especially those friends in the business of education. So, tell me why this Board of Education has decided it’s okay for staff and students to go to class with a nest of creepy-crawlies in their hair? I know, I know. Head lice aren’t dangerous, in the physical-health sense. Nope. The little buggers mate, lay eggs, the eggs hatch, the parents die, the hatchlings mate with their friends and neighbours, lay more eggs and, well if you’re an adult, you understand the cycle. But, seriously? An educator’s vantage point is typically hovering over a student at a desk. Imagine trying to concentrate on the learning problem while being visually assaulted by the louse problem. My mind says, “Board of Education, if you’re trying to take the stigma out of a case of head lice, letting a student attend class isn’t the way to make that happen.” Indeed, nothing says teasing and bullying like a neato game of “who’s got cooties”. If our Board of Education wants to make their point, then they should be offering Nit Kits and/or Nit Squad services in each of the schools. It should be part of the curriculum. The B of E should also keep in mind the teachers who are on the frontline every day. Did anyone bother to ask them how they’d like to see this play out? If a decision has been made to allow children with head lice to stay in class, then a decision should be made to help the staff deal with it.

We all know head lice aren’t the end of the world nor are they life threatening. But they do spread. Come on Board of Education, you put tissues in the classroom to encourage the nose-pickers to blow rather than dig. Don’t leave your faculty cringing over bugs. You’re in the business of education. You have to teach your staff how to keep their classrooms louse-free.

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca