Birthdays seem to stimulate memories. Since this is my birthday month, I’ve recalled quite a few memories. Thought I’d share this one with you.
I went to a small elementary school that sat all by itself out in the Wisconsin countryside. When I attended, the school had one classroom for each of the five grades and a gym/lunch room. The kindergarten class met on the stage at one end of the gym, where a wood partition was pulled across for privacy.
I never realized the school’s history a local citizen/parent put together a documentary on the school. He’d been able to interview my third grade teacher before she passed away. Mrs. Barker shared with him the class pictures from every year that she taught at the school. I was actually in Mrs. Barker’s classroom for two years, but not because I’d failed. My class was so large (over 30 students) that in first grade, five of us were selected and placed in the second grade classroom. We’d go back to the first grade room for certain subjects but otherwise, the second grade teacher taught us. The same thing happened in second grade–the five of us were placed in the third grade room where we spent most of our time. When we got to third grade, our class had shrunk to 29 students so we stayed in Mrs. Barker’s classroom.
When I mentioned this to the man who made the documentary, he emailed me copies of the class pictures from my two years in Mrs. Barker’s class. Amazingly, I was able to recall the names of all my classmates in the picture from third grade. I recalled something else, too. Notice how short my bangs were in 3rd grade compared to 2nd grade?
My mom used to put Scotch tape across our bangs to make sure she cut them straight across. The tape provided a nice edge and pulled off easily afterward. I remember once thinking I could cut my own bangs using Mom’s method. So I put the tape across my bangs and proceeded to cut them. Except I didn’t realize that Mom always cut across the bottom of the tape. I cut across the top.
Nowadays, I save a little money by only going to the hair salon every two or three months. In between, I cut my own bangs. The last time I got my hair cut, the stylist asked if I wanted my bangs trimmed.“Yes, they need it,” I said.She combed them down over my forehead and asked, “Did you trim them yourself?”
“Can’t you tell?”
We both looked at my bangs and burst out laughing. The uneven edge bore a striking similarity to an EKG printout of someone with an irregular heart beat. I guess next time I trim my own bangs, I’ll need to use Mom’s method. Just hope I remember to cut under the tape!
Okay, ‘fess up! Leave a comment below and tell me about one of your bad hair days.