April 3, 1995: The Lice Check

Actual Journal Entry: Episode 1
(Names have been cleverly altered so as to not piss anyone off.)

So, earlier this morning Mr. S got on the intercom and announced that they would be doing lice checks today due to an “outbreak”. Who knew that three dirty seventh graders is all it takes to make up an outbreak – that’s the story anyway.

I should be doing my math homework, but its "free time" and Mrs. M is in the corner doing some yoga stretches – her daily ritual to break up the excruciatingly long afternoon before we break apart for math and electives. What a hippie. And this morning we were talking about civil rights and all of a sudden she pulled out her rain stick. I do not see how that fits at all, but whatever.

So, Ms. S and Mr. S are in our class checking out heads, what is up with that? I mean, there’s gotta only be one kid in this class who could ever have lice. DK. Oh, he smells so bad, poor kid. Or maybe EM. We broke up, by the way. I’m not even sure why I’m writing that down, because it’s not like we ever even went out. He’s so gross. C totally talked me into going out with him to get back at me for talking her into going out with AM. He is so much cooler that E, sure he keeps a stuffed moose on his desk, but--well, I guess he keeps a stuffed moose on his desk. But he’s a nice kid.

Ok, so D or E are the only two possibilities. Oh, maybe IF, he does still sport a rat tail after all. The other day I walked up behind him with a pair of scissors and I put it really close to the back of his head and closed the scissors really slowly. He freaked! It was so funny. I should have really done it and done him a major favor. Rat tails are so five years ago. But I really don’t think he has lice.

Ms. S checked my head and talked to me all buddy buddy, like we were friends or something just because I get a tardy slip from her every day. It was so embarrassing. I’m sure people were wondering how the old secretary and I are all pally.

Shocking! I didn’t have lice.

Oh, the funniest part was when Mr. S got all upset and started telling us to just wash our hair with bar soap and to not use any product. It went something like, “you kids today, you mess up your hair so much. Just take a bar of soap and wash your hair. You don’t need anything else. Your hair should feel squeaky clean. That’s a good thing.” I tried to not laugh too loudly, but come on, like I am really going to have split ends. He’s so ridiculous – hair was not meant to be squeaky.

Oh, math is in 20 minutes, so I’d better go do the assignment, Mrs. R already hates me enough.