My last post was 14 day before the school year began and now I am 14 days after. In the last fourteen days, I have gotten to know my students a little better and they have gotten to know me a little better. I know which ones can sit in a chair for the time allotted to me with them, and which ones are so energetic they are vvvvvvibbbbbrrrattttting out of their seats. I know who believes that their salvation lies in the hands of G-d and who believes their salvation is written in the gradebook. I know who has the strongest bladders and of course, the ones with itty-bitty bladders who are up with their bathroom pass in hand after every sip of water. I know who is in a committed relationship with their integrity and who is in a very casual relationship with the truth.

However, germ warfare knows no binaries.

I have six boxes of tissue stationed around the room to act as sentries against the spread of germs by way of the booger army, and in fourteen days, we have emptied three of them. In the days since school began, each class period has become a symphony of quiet sniffs paired with righteous HONKS of both sucking air in through a walled off nostril and then the battering SNORK-PAH of mucus expulsion. There are the deep percussive coughs, and the genteel sounds of throat clearing meant to disguise the cough waiting to erupt, like the soft tapping of a hi-hat before the crescendo of the piece.

More than one teacher has had to miss school for multiple days because they got sick. The desperation for teacher coverage is starting early this year, due to the little petri-dishes being so committed to good attendance. I am of two minds about it. I admire the commitment to success on the one hand, but on the other hand, I think that cooties kept at home is a public service. It’s funny how many of us – well…me, anyway – have had our entire perspective around getting sick change since the ‘Rona years. Are there practical solutions like wearing masks? Sure. But in a world where kids have SO LITTLE CONTROL OVER ANYTHING, getting them to cover their sweet little faces after they spent the whole summer practicing their make-up and “How-YOU-doing?” smiles is going to float like a rock in a pond.

And now…it is time to find out if I have actually developed an immunity to (this figurative) iocane powder. Middle school cooties are odorless (sometimes), tasteless (tell me about it), dissolve instantly in water, and can be deadly to your sick leave. I wash my hands with religious fervor, keep my distance as best one can in a 17×17 room with 29 bodies in it, and monitor every cough, sneeze, sniffle, and bodyache like a scientist studying a new species. Hopefully, the robustness I have ascribed my immune system is not hubris, but the product of good genetics and a childhood in the 80s.

I will keep you posted.

(sniffle)