(Continued from yesterday) The photo shows me and my offending hair.
This was turning out to be a really unusual day. That morning on the school bus, everyone was abuzz with talk of "The Beatles", who they had watched last night on the Ed Sullivan Show. When I finally arrived at school and I got off the bus, there was even more excitement in the air.
Suddenly, everybody knew about The Beatles, and just as suddenly, I was the center of attention because of my hair. Students I had never met were coming up to me and calling me a “Beatle”. Over night, my status at school had sky-rocketed to a level usually reserved for a star athlete after a big game. I felt like a celebrity. I had suddenly become the school expert on the Beatles.
I was beginning to suspect that maybe this whole Mr. Buck thing might be about my hair--but no, my hair was only 2 days longer than it was last week, and no one had ever said anything about it then, so there I sat, watching students, teachers, and staff come and go from the office, all giving me secret glances and whispering as they went about their business.
So there I sat, looking at the, inspirational and the health warning posters on the wall in Mr. Buck’s outer office. I picked at my fingernails, and looked at my shoes as I sat there for 15 minutes. The bell rang, and through the glass, I could see the sudden hoard of kids surge by as they changed classes. It didn’t take long for the word of my situation to spread, and some of my friends were peeking in to see what was happening to me. By this time, I was pretty sure that my present situation did not have anything to do with some tragedy that had befallen my family.
After the late bell had sounded and the halls had once again emptied, I guess Mr. Buck figured the his target had been softened up enough by this time, because his secretary was buzzed and she picked up her phone, and nodded her head, looked at me and said, “Mr. Buck will see you now.”
I grabbed my books and slowly shuffled in to Mr. Buck’s Office. It seemed dark, and foreboding, but maybe that was just my perception.
“Have a seat, David.” he said, motioning with his hand at a chair sitting directly in front of his desk. I lowered myself down on the chair, looked up, to see that he was staring at me with his mouth set as he slowly shook his head.
“What the hell are you trying to pull, David?”
“What?” I responded.
“What are you doing coming to school with your hair like that?" Mr. Buck countered.
“Like what?” I replied.
“Like a girl’s. We are not going to allow you to come to school with that long hair.”
“But, my hair isn’t that long. Guys with ducktails that slick it back, have longer hair than I do.” I said.
“Well, I don’t like it, and I want you to get it cut.” Mr Buck demanded.
I guess I have a negative view of authority, and I replied that I didn’t really care for his hair all that much either, and then added that my hair wasn’t any different now than it had been last week, or the week before that, and no one had said anything about it then. This whole thing was not about me, it was about the Beatles. Everything had been okay, until they appeared on TV.
After about 30 minutes of verbal sparing. Mr Buck told me to go back out to the outer office, sit there and "think about things". So, clutching my books, I rose from the chair and walked back out to my seat in the outer office.
By now, it was time for the first lunch period, (there were 3, so that the school could get all of the students fed), when the bell sounded the halls again filled with students, and some with ‘early lunch’ were slowly walking back and forth past the office, staring at me and giving me hand signals, both the stroking of the index finger, which meant “shame on you”, and the thumbs up sign of support.
Since the “Early Lunch Period” was my allotted time to eat, I was temporarily freed and allowed to go for a shortened lunch. As I left the confines of Mr. Buck’s Office, I was suddenly surrounded by the curious. I was the hottest news in the school that morning, so in between my eating, I had to repeat, over and over, the events of my morning. Even people I didn’t know gathered around to hear about my incarceration. I was not given a full lunch period, so I soon found myself, reporting back to my seat in the office, where I waited and thought, and waited some more.
Then after 45 minutes or so, I was called back into Buck’s office, and he had at me again. During this part of my interrogation the threats of being barred from school were replaced warnings of personal destruction. The high point of this session was his remarks that I was “ruining my life,” and “if I didn’t make some changes now, I would probably end up in prison”.
This seemed a bit too dramatic a result for just having hair that was a bit longer than normal. He concluded by demanding that I should go get my hair cut after school and to report back to his office "first thing tomorrow morning". I was then dismissed and allowed to continue with my education
View my paintings: davidmarchant2.ca