Much Ado About Hair

Two days before the school reopened, he text me:

J: Is it OK if I straighten my fringe?
Me: Sure. Did you colour it though?
J: A little. But you can’t see it, unless under the sunlight.
Me: When I check your hair on Mon morning, there’ll be lots of sunlight.
J: But it’s only a little. Please show some mercy.
Me: I’ll try. But you’d better stay away from the discipline mistress.

On Monday morning, his hair did not pass the ultra-conservative , Jurassic standards of the school. Not because of the straightening, or the colour (detectable only if your eyeball is 5 cm away from his hair), but because the newly straightened fringe was nearly touching his eyes. J was told to cut it shorter by the end of the day.

Tuesday morning, re-inspection time. J had trimmed his fringe with the skill of a neuro-surgeon, meaning he had cut it shorter by 0.1cm, I think. The prefect, brandishing a pair of scissors, ordered J to trim it there and then. J hemmed and hawed, so I had no choice but to pull him to one side.

“Looks like I’ll have to do it,” I said, waving the scissors with a malicious smile.

J thought I was a nice fella and submitted his crown of glory to my expert hands. I positioned the scissors, and before he could blink his eyes, made a horizontal swipe across his fringe, just above his eyebrows.

“Oi!!!” he shrieked. “Wa lao, how can you cut horizontally??!!”

Gee, why didn’t it occur to me? The poor guy would be the subject of much ribbing from his pals now for looking so nerdy.

In the evening, I text him.

Me: I am very sorry about your hair. Hope it can be salvaged.
J: It’s OK la. I can correct it and make it nice again.
Me: Don’t give me another opportunity to cut your hair ok?
J: Haha. OK OK.

Moral of the story: Teachers make lousy hair-stylists. So don’t give us a reason to cut your hair.