On Wednesday, first period, a student opened his bag on a table in my classroom and two huge cockroaches skittered out.
On Wednesday, last period, a few students shrieked at the sight of a bug on the floor. “It’s a bedbug!” one shouted. I didn’t see it, can’t confirm it, and am not squeamish, but bedbugs terrify me. I am not going to burn all my belongings because a child shares his or her infestation with my classroom. It probably wasn’t a bedbug. But still.
On Thursday, during our team meeting, someone saw a bug on a table in my room. “What’s that?” I jumped a little. Really, I’m not squeamish. It was just a fly. Felt a little silly. But after the roaches and the possible bedbug…
Friday morning, 3 am, I wake up with a start. I can hear the 8th grade dean telling me in no uncertain terms that my cat has both fleas and bedbugs and is going to give them to me. I can almost feel the creepy-crawlies in my bed. I kick my purring cat off my bed and fall back into fitful slumber.