As any self-respecting nit-fearing teacher would, I've been putting my hair up during school hours to protect my ever matted locks from becoming overrun with second hand man-fleas.
Pediculus humanus capitis – or 'Schoolyard's bane'
However, today I had to go on duty, and as such, it was my duty to go outside in the freezing outdoors, donning a tiny hat that would only be forced onto my head with a crow bar, if my hair was not tied up in a bun.
In the interest of sun-safety (and avoiding pot-calling-the-kettle-black arguments from a bunch of smart arsed grade four kids), I succumbed to pulling the 'snag free' hairband from my head. I actually saw a kid from my class wince as he saw me doing this, in sympathy. Half of my Rapunzel-esque tendrils now lay in my hand, still attached to the green band of torture. I resolved to someday make a ladder out of the hair, crammed the hat on my head and headed out for duty.
All goes well, apart from the aforementioned smart arsed grade four kids.
When the bell goes I forget about tying my hair back up, thereby allowing it to spring freely from whence it came. It can be quite cumbersome at times, and the kids were finding that they best way to get my attention was to move the curtain of hair out of my face themselves, especially if I was working with another student at the time.
Eventually, the 'bossy' kid in the class (and believe me, he's bossy) turned to me matter of factly and said "Miss Wynwood, get a haircut."
"Nah, I don't really need one just yet mate." I say with a wink. He completely misses it, instead shooting me a disdainful look.
"Get. A. Hair. Cut. You weally need one. Now help me with my sentences."
This afternoon I drove down to the local hairdressers. I'll be there at 9am sharp, Saturday morning.
Bert says: 'You can never have too many hair cuts, can you Patti?'