Shocker.
I'm going to tell you what he said, but you need to prepare yourself for the, the inhumanity.
Are you sitting down?
He said, "Mrs. Reed? Why are you always the same?"
I'll wait while those of you who had to grab a hankie and fan yourself regain your composure.
He continued on, "I mean, you always wear your hair the same, you wear the same jacket...why don't you do something different with yourself? Do something with your hair, or something?"
I don't remember my exact response to all this, but I think it amounted to the equivalent of, "I know you are, but what am I?" AND IT'S A HOODIE, NOT A JACKET.
Classy, huh?
It wasn't so much what he said, but the way it affected me. I would love to blame hormones--but I didn't cry (of all the things I've learned about teaching junior high, it's that you never let them make you cry, and you try really really hard not to accidentally cuss in front of them. So far, so good.)--but I'm pretty sure it was just my ego that got the best of me. He played on my two feminine insecurities: my hair and my wardrobe.
Always the SAME? Really?
When I woke up the next morning, after giving the whole incident way more time in my brain than it warranted, I had to laugh. This kid has known me less than 30 weeks of my 35ish years. He has no idea how NOT the same I am. And quite frankly, I love my hair. It's not movie star or model hair, but it does what I want it to on a regular basis, and there are no weird bumps or humps on most days. I love the style so much I will probably keep it a while longer. I did go darker once, but my husband said, "Please don't do that again." (after the fact, of course)...
But the kid wasn't around for my junior high days. For the mullet. For the
Nor was he there (or even born for that matter) for high school, when my hair was slightly better, at least for the 90's. But we're talking big hair. Huge. It was also my first voyage into the realm of highlights...which was terrifying to me. That and all the perms made it break off and look horrifically bad for a while... but at least it wasn't orange.
He wasn't even there in college, after I finally gave up the perm and the big bangs. When I tried to be Jennifer Aniston. When my hair was the least of my worries.
In the end, I realized that although yes, I do wear a pretty, um, standard wardrobe to school, and yes, my hair style doesn't change much. But I'm a teacher living on a teacher's salary, and I spend most of my wardrobe money on my kids, and my years and years and years of bad hair experience allows me to admit that it's far better for me to not fix what ain't broke. But always the same? Nope.
Not even close.
