My Creative Independent Thinker

When I picked E up at school this afternoon, her teacher beckoned me with one finger.  I cringed and approached.  She put her hand to one side of her mouth and kind of whispered:
"E cut her hair today.  And her friend's."

Ohhh...  it continues.

Her second week of nursery school, when she was three and we had just seen Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day and then proceeded to read the book over and over again, her teacher greeted me in a similar fashion.
"I just want to let you know... (pregnant pause)...  E painted her hair today."
And she had - as red as she could.  Like Alexander.  The teachers had tried to rinse it out, resulting in a stiff crackly helmet of reddish orange that crunched as I lay my hand on her head to lead her out of the building.

Later that same year, at a suburban nursery school she attended for a couple months after we moved, the poor assistant teacher didn't know what to do with her.  She was frustrated because since E started they needed to close the classroom door so she wouldn't wander out.  This teacher, a bit exasperated, looked at me one day and said
"She does things I have never seen any child do before...  And I've been teaching for 25 years..."

But really?  I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing.

Today, (using the safety scissors they use in Kindergarten) she only cut a small bit in the front.  Giving one side a little bit of long bangs.

Her friend had her hair in a ponytail when she came out of the classroom.  She has a head of beautiful dark curls.  E insists she only cut a tiny bit.  That her friend just wanted her to cut off one curl.  I'll see for myself tomorrow when her hair is down again.  Until then, I'm just keeping my fingers crossed.

No comments:

Post a Comment