The Sweatervest Sagas: Bad Hair Day
(NickNote: It’s time for the third installment of The Sweatervest Sagas! I’m beginning to think my fellow contributor is more disciplined than I am…whoops. Anyways…enjoy!)
Well, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Junior High-aged children are odd. The oddest, in fact. It’s hard for me to ever remember being in this type of mindset. It’s a time in your life when your hair means either absolutely everything to you or absolutely nothing to you.
I’ve drawn this conclusion upon observation; consider this post an ethnography.
There’s a student in my class, a bump on a log, a do nothing little darling. This dumpling stands about four feet high, and close to three feet wide. His blonde hair falls limply over his eyebrows, his eyes covered by a pair of transition lenses that don’t seem to lose their tint quite quickly enough when we return from recess. This leaves him sunglassed at the beginning of my class (which is just annoying, and quite frankly a bit unnerving).
But, back to the topic at hand…as previously stated, this star pupil stands a mere four feet tall, if that. This means, of course, that the majority of the eighth grade in the building along with myself literally look down at this child. Last Friday I looked down and dry heaved. The amount of dry skin flaking off at the crown of his head was enough to make you vomit. It appeared as if earlier in the morning, he had decided to perhaps, pour a box of instant mashed potato flakes on his head. Obviously, I can’t be the only one who notices this because I’m talking nickel sized flakes here.
And I’m not.
A group of eighth grade girls notice during mass. They are gagging and pointing, and what am I supposed to do? I want to gag and point, but I’m the adult here. I give the girls a look. A “cut it out” look, cause no one is taller than an eighth grade girl, no one can look down at the crown of their heads and gag.
Poor little do nothing darling, I hope he discovers the importance of shampoo soon.