Once I started teaching in Simsbury, my worst fear was running into students and their parents at the grocery store. This weekend, however, I discovered there’s something far worse—running into your hairdresser at the grocery store.
During my entire conversation with Ashley, my young and talented stylist whose efforts go largely to waste after the first shampoo, I thought to myself, I’ve had this feeling before. I couldn’t place when or where, but I knew I felt like it a million times in the past.
Then I remembered. It was five times a day between the years 1986 and 1991, at the beginning of each class during homework check. The look on Ashley’s face was reminiscent of Miss Mead’s as she walked away with her grade book, shaking her head and lamenting how I didn’t apply myself.
I hear it’s never too late to make a New Year’s resolution, so here is my vow: from this day forward, I will never leave my house with a greasy ponytail again.