Quiet laughter followed.
“Now, moving on to other topics—I want to propose that we dedicate some emergency funds for lice prevention. This has been a very bad spring for it. I would go so far as to call it a full-scale crisis. And I’d really like to bring in a lice expert to do a presentation about prevention and removal. I’d also like to earmark some PTA money for purchasing some of those large, heavy-duty, self-sealing plastic bags for all of our classrooms so students can place their personal effects inside them before storing in their cubbies or the coat closet. Is this something the rest of you can get behind?”
“Sounds like a great idea to me,” said Leigh, the after-school chair. “The situation is really out of control in Harper’s class.”
“Same deal in Hudson’s,” said Janine, who headed up STEM.
“Well, I’m sorry to rain on everyone’s parade,” began Denise, the vice president, with a pained expression on her face. “But I just have to say—I feel really uncomfortable directing PTA money to the plastics industry. I mean, do we as a school really want to support them? And do we even have proof that plastic bags prevent lice contagion?”
“Denise, as much as I sympathize with what you’re saying,” said Susan, “the lice specialist I spoke with said they were essential for preventing student-to-student transmission. And I think that’s enough to go on. But if others share Denise’s concern, please speak up.”
No one spoke. But Denise wasn’t ready to let it go. “Well, I just think it’s a little hypocritical of us to be launching our fourth-grade green-and-healthy newsletter—never mind our school-lunch recycling campaign and our new food-justice committee—at the same moment we’re sending money to the Ziploc people.”
“Okay, but Denise”—Karen could tell Susan was getting the tiniest bit impatient—“we’re literally talking about seven hundred bags. It’s not like we’re going to affect their business one way or the other or make a dent in our own budget.”
“Fine.” Denise pressed her lips together and grimaced. Then she opened them again. “It’s just—I try really hard to raise my kids in a natural environment. And I just feel like this sends the exact wrong message. I mean, human beings have been getting lice since ancient times. I just don’t see why we can’t try an ancient cure before we resort to zip-lock bags.”
“You mean like leeches?” cut in Liz, the secretary and interim treasurer.
There were snickers. Even Karen found herself suppressing a smile. But Denise remained unamused, shooting Liz a look of wounded fury.
“Ladies, please,” said Susan, clearly the conciliator of the group. “If Denise feels that strongly, why don’t we put the topic of plastic bags away till our next meeting. In the meantime, does everyone approve of bringing in the lice expert for a parent workshop on lice prevention and elimination? All who do, please raise their hands.” Reluctantly, and just as the crown of her head began to itch—paranoia or contagion?—Karen lifted her right hand, as did the rest of the group. Even Denise could be seen halfheartedly raising her arm and opening her palm. “Okay, it’s unanimous,” said Susan. “Now, if anyone else would like to propose some additional spending priorities, please speak. I should add that, legally, and as weird as this might sound, we’re actually required to spend eighty-six thousand before the end of the school year.”
“Well, since we’re on the topic of workshops, I’d love to see the school bring someone in to teach meditation,” began Kim, the fifth-grade committee chair. “The upper-school kids are so stressed out about the upcoming state tests. I think it would really benefit them.”
“Interesting idea,” said Susan. “But forgive me for asking—aren’t most of our fourth-and fifth-graders opting out of the state tests this year?”
“Well, yeah—some of them are,” said Kim, sounding the tiniest bit defensive. “But even the ones who are opting out are freaking out about middle-school admissions.”
“Tell me about it,” said Meredith, chair of the arts committee. “I went on the Middle School for Innovative Inquiries tour last week, and there were literally nine hundred families there for, like, seventy-five spots. It’s harder to get into these places than it is to get into Harvard!”
“Ladies, can we get back to business?” asked Susan, turning to the wider group. “Anyone else like to comment?” She scanned the room.
“Well, just to play devil’s advocate, I just kind of wonder if we’re not overcoached,” said Leigh. “I mean, we’re already paying for a math coach, a recess coach, a debating coach, and a chess coach. And I guess I’m also wondering if there’s even room for a meditation coach to do his or her thing. I mean, I’m assuming he or she would have to find a quiet space to do it in, and I don’t have to tell you guys that there is literally not one empty broom closet left in the school building. My daughter just told me that kids are now getting occupational therapy in one of the old maintenance-supply rooms.”
“I know—it’s ridiculous,” cut in Amy, the volunteer coordinator. “But if someone actually went door-to-door and outed all the people who were lying about where they lived, we’d have, like, a normal-size school again. Seriously, have you noticed how many kids head to the train station straight from pickup? It’s so infuriating.” Amy grimaced while Karen swallowed hard.
“People, can we stay on topic?” asked Susan. The room fell quiet. “Anyone else like to comment on Kim’s proposal?” But no one did. “Well, a meditation coach is definitely something to consider,” she went on. “But since we’re talking about a staff hire that possibly requires board of education approval, I suspect it would have to be something we looked into for next year, not this. And we really need to spend the money this spring. Any other proposals for immediate spending?”
Another hand shot up—this one belonging to Deirdre, the member-at-large, who, Karen now noticed, was quite large herself. “Well, I don’t know how many people realize this, but the fifth grade has at least one trans student in it. It’s actually my friend Kristen’s son, Liam, who used to be her daughter Lia. Anyway, Liam has really not had an easy time of it this year. And honestly, some of the problems have been on the teacher side. Liam’s teachers have been refusing to call him by the name he wants to be called and also continue to refer to him as a she. On that note, I really think the school could benefit from some guidance on the issue. I actually know someone from the Glockenberg Institute for Child and Adolescent Studies who specializes in this stuff. In addition to sponsoring a trans-sensitivity-training workshop for the teachers, I thought we could do an evening discussion for parents and maybe an assembly for all the upper-school kids.”
“Hm,” said Susan. “Do you know how much it would cost?”