Hair Washing. Or Not.

Example of a girl who needs a “mom.”

Reina has beautiful dark brown hair. Long and silky. And then, for some reason I never figured out, she stopped washing it. I wanted to ask her if she needed something. Shampoo? And I don’t mean this is a mean way, but before I got the chance, the counselor told me there was something going on at home that she couldn’t share with me. Okay, I’m just glad I’m not the counselor. I wouldn’t be able to stay out of problems.

Ah, well. Leave it to one of the boys to say something blunt:

“Hey, Reina. Why doncha wash that stinky hair? Damn.”


Reina turned pink. Got out of her seat and steadily walked over to the sink and rinsed her hair in cold water, pumped out some hand soap, and washed her hair.

The class was in stitches. The art teacher kept saying, “Oh my god oh my god,” as Reina dried her long hair with school scratchy paper towels.

The art room sink, with bowls full of colored water and half-washed brushes, and globs of blue and red paint streaking the sink.

Reina’s hair was clean. Somewhat.

Oh, It’s Just Monday, People!

black rotary telephone at top of gray surface
Photo by Pixabay on

Things could be worse. You could hate your job. You could have no job. You could be homeless. You could be very sick. You could be sick and tired. You could be stuck on the side of the road. You could have a broken bone. You could have lost your keys. You could have lost your phone. What is the world coming to? I have lost my cell phone!

Some days I love my phone because it distracts me, but other days I wish cell phones hadn’t been invented. When I began teaching, I would walk into the faculty room after school, and it would be crackling with laughter and energy. Now I walk into the faculty room, and it’s quiet. It’s still full of people, but they’re checking their phones. I’m sad about that.

It’s just Monday.