A few weeks ago it was health check and immunisation day at school. Here's how it played out:
9am, the bus has just arrived and kids start filling past my classroom window. I peek outside and find Senitoa class lining up outside classroom #3 a.k.a. "multipurpose/no purpose room". I wonder what's going on so I ask the closest child who proceeds to demonstrate sticking a needle in his arm. Ah must be immunisation day. Interesting. So I walk down the corridor to sneak a squiz in the room and I see a sea of what is unmistakeably a clutter (correct collective noun suggestions welcome) of nurses. Dressed head to toe in white pinafores, and my memory likes to see stiff white hats to top it off.
and I was drawn into the ensuing spectacle:
The first kid in line is looked at by nurse #1. Tongue out. Torch in mouth. Torch in ears. Inspect fingernails. Check vaccination card. Given OK to enter "the clinic".
Inside:
task #1 eye test - stand behind teachers desk and look at chart on the opposite side of the room. Chart is one of those really appropriate ones with the matching M, E, 3, and W. I watch 2 very young, nervous nurses attempt to explain the task to a child who is either deaf, intellectually impaired, language impaired, non verbal, partially blind, autistic, oppositional defiant, ADHD or has a combo of any, or all of the above. Observe child try their very best to move their fingers in a weird combo of "east side" "west side""3rd side" and "Manly side" trying to keep up with the nurse who is only trying to demonstrate (but the kid thinks they are acing this one! thinking "I cant believe they make these things so easy"). Pass.
task #2 simultaneous height and weight measuring. This complex task requires 3 nurses - one to read height, one to read weight and a third to record the results.
special task #3- injections! a super awesome experience not only for the poor child that has to receive it, but also for the whole class of students lined up outside peering in the windows wondering whats going on, and the teachers who have to run around the school grounds chasing, finding, consoling and soothing the kids that have flipped after seeing whats in store for them! (thankfully most children were lucky enough to be spared the awful procedure that is needles). Those not so lucky shed a few tears, but then spent the day proudly showing off their spot band aids.
This entertaining spectacle was repeated for each of the 4 classes, with slightly elevated anxiety levels for each new class as they witnessed the hysterics of those before them.*
Little did I know that once all the children were checked over the true spectacle was still awaiting us. The secretary, lovely Irene, came into my room and told me that the head teacher wanted to see me. I was directed towards the "clinic room" where the head teacher pointed to the scales and said get on. I had a little chuckle and admired her sense of humour. And then she cracked another one "I am writing your weight on this piece of paper get on" and it slowly dawned on me that this was no joke at all. All teachers, volunteers, parents and grandparents at school were systematically being weighed, with no exceptions. After much nervous laughing and pleading and thinking light thoughts I stepped on the scales, with 4 sets of eyes peering at the numbers as the pin made up its mind. BAM "insert number" was shouted out and scrawled on the paper nicely next to my name. Amy was up next and BAM her "certain number" was shouted out and duly noted. Our weights were then compared, discussed, dissected, examined, hypothesised, scrutinised, and finally approved.
The spectacle was not restricted to us whiteys. Each participant (willing or unwilling)'s weight was read out and discussions of who was too heavy and who was too skinny were commenced. As each new adult was shepherded into "the clinic room" their weight was added to the paper and their size added to the discussion. The heaviest lady (at 105ishkg) was on the receiving end of the majority of comments "you need to lose weight" "I cant believe you weigh that much, you carry B, and you walk to town every day" (carrying B involves carrying him ~10m on and off the bus 4 times a day, and he weighs about 20kg tops). The lightest mum (at 41kg, and a good head taller than me) was also subject to much criticism, "you are too skinny", "eat more", "you need to eat more this and more that".
It was then proposed that all the teacher's and parent's weights would be typed up and posted on the notice board outside the office for all to see. And on the subsequent nurses visit (next term) our new weights will be placed right alongside so we (or everyone else) can see our progress. We were told by the head teacher not to put on weight, avoid the Dalo, and she will be checking up on us.
The topic of conversation did not vary one bit for the remainder of the day. The tea room was filled with comparisons and comments (always about people in front of their faces, rather than behind their backs. A refreshing, if not awkward approach). Big bones were claimed by the Fijians amongst us. One teacher (83kg) was constantly commenting that she has always been 60kg (unlikely, she is a giant, big bones.) And it went on and on and on until everyone had committed everyone elses weights to memory and told each other what they thought of their mass, girth and impact on earth.
Thank god we didn't have to get needles as well!
*(actually I exaggerate slightly, the majority of the children were much better behaved and braver than I would have ever been, I like to think its because they didn't know what was coming?)
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