Thoughts on the First Day of Hair School
The anticipation of the first day of school is too much for me to sleep. So, I look through the kit that was issued during orientation. Am I going to use all of this stuff? Most of it I recognize but there are some things I don’t. The shears look so sharp. How many times will I cut myself with them? Will I be the first one? How much hair will I cut off during my career? Will I make mistakes? Should I bring up all my bald Barbies? Why won’t my mind shut off?
Very early in the morning, I walk into the building. During orientation, the staff said, “Whatever you do, don’t be late!” As I make my way to the time clock, I feel the eyes of the seniors on me. It looks like they are looking at my long hair, do they want to cut it off? Is there something on my face? Is my zipper down? They just keep staring, how awkward! Oh wait, a couple of them smiled and looked back down at their phone screens. Maybe they just wondered if I was one of the new freshmen. Because I am! Scanning my fingerprint on the time clock, I officially start my day.
Now, what was next? Oh yeah, check in with an Instructor in the staff office? Walking past all the lockers, I make my way to the room where they all sit in the morning. It seems as if they all are working on something because they all are staring into a computer screen. As I clear my throat, they all turn around and one of them offers a good morning. I have to show them what I am wearing because the school has a strict dress code. Black pants, black shirts, face on (wearing make-up) and I get the go-ahead to make my way towards the freshman room.
Passing by the reception desk, through the retail area and then right before the freshman classroom, I see the clinic. It looks just like a regular hair salon. All the mirrored stations are lined up next to each other in neat little rows. Since the clinic starts after morning class it is completely empty right now. Even though I just got here, I can’t wait to stand behind one of these chairs and change someone’s day by making them feel good about themselves. I’m sure I’ll be so nervous for my first client. It might be a good idea to make sure it’s my mom, she has to love me no matter what.
As I enter the freshman classroom, I’m confused about the fact that it is sometimes called the dungeon. I wonder how it got that name, because it is so bright in there? We will be spending the next eight weeks in this room, maybe that’s why. Hey, there are no windows, maybe that’s why.
A couple of other freshmen are already in the classroom sitting in chairs behind tables. Everyone that enters this room will be in my “class” the whole time we are here. We will probably get to know each other pretty well since the program is thirteen months long. One of the longest in the nation. One of the reasons I picked this school was because I heard so many good things about it from the stylists where I had been getting my hair done.
So many of my classmates from high school already headed off to college. People kept telling me that I should try that first and then come to hair school. I know they meant well but this is what I was born to do. It’s all I can think about. All I want is to live, breathe and eat hair. Not literally though, that would be gross. Wait, I wonder how much hair we will actually breath and eat? Checking Google. What? The average person ingests 36 pounds of hair over a 76 year life span. Note to self: Keep your mouth closed!
More students come in and now I feel myself checking them out. I guess it’s just natural. Man, there sure are a lot of blonde people here. I wonder how long everyone will look like they do right now? Once everyone has arrived, one of the instructors comes in and introduces herself. She tells everyone to put their phones in a box on the counter.
WHAT! No phone for like an hour?!? I’m going to die! I’ll probably have a million notifications. People will think I have disappeared off the face of the earth! Guess I’ll just have to get used to it.
As the lights dim and the wall is illuminated by images projected from overhead, the learning begins. The anticipation was worth every second. This is what I have been dreaming about my whole life. No more garagemetologist or kitchen cosi for me, I’m going to be legitimate.
A stylist, hairdresser, day maker, life changer…. a licensed cosmetologist.
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