Week Five: September 21st

Though I debated calling this "The French T," Ella preferred that I just call it "The T," so I defer to the five year-old wisdom of it all. After all, if this is not a childish pursuit, what is it?

Perhaps I could attempt to fit in on a college campus with this look. A scholarly bite-back at all those years I did not possess the capacity for facial hair during my undergraduate matriculation. I could lease a thrift-store tweed jacket--elbow patches mandatory--and head off to the nearest institution of higher learning. Pedal about the grounds on an old-school bicycle, one pant-leg jacked-up to avoid chain grease. Upon reaching my destination, I could shed my shoes and socks (I will not be confined by the shackles of man) and settle in to read a philosophical tome. But only if I sat directly in the sun--jacket still on--never breaking a sweat.

But, I digress....

The T only gained notice on Monday, as my students gathered around me for a read-aloud and one inquired, "Did you shave again?" To which another replied, "Yeah, he shaves every week, didn't you know this already?" (He, of course, just discovered this last week, but such is the rubbing-the-dog's-face-in-excrement way of elementary school.) After that, The T faded into beard obscurity, along with the nameless other beards I have sported over the years. I suppose next week calls for a big change.

Week Four: September 14th

Captain, whatever you are thinking, it is highly illogical....

And now for the Nimoy-inspired "Vulcan." The Trekkies among you would likely cite my ignorance and cry foul over a (facial) hairless race possessing some chin-scrub to go along with the spear-pointed sideburns. Maybe Spock never grew facial hair, but you can bet our boy Leonard N. has sported a sweet salt-and-p goatee at almost every public appearance since the conclusion of his final journey.

While my past facial hedges have received little notice and even less acclaim, this one garnered instant props. Most adults simply shook their heads and smiled wearily in the direction of my chin. My students, however, formed many different camps, all of which verged on some snarky form of hostility. "WHAT is that?" "It looks like a man on your face!" "Ew, did you shave again? It looks gross!" and many more utterances of wonder came my way throughout the week.

On the downside: I shaved this new fashion on Friday night--so excited was I to start the new look--but I ran a double-stroller-pushing 5K race on Saturday morning and finished with the spaces beneath my lower lip so chafed they had begun to bleed.

Oh, the price we pay for our chin-sprout adventures.

Week Three: September 7th

Perhaps inspired by this, the sandwich week between the college football opener and the impending head-mashing of NFL Sunday, I present The Chinstrap! (With complimentary cro-magnon pose.) Maybe I should have had one of my daughters thrash me about the head and shoulders to make it look complete.

Not one of my strongest entries to date--at least based on the lack of notice it achieved--nevertheless, I enjoyed it, and felt the accompanying aggression surging throughout its week of semi-hirstute drapery.

One twist: it was school picture week. So, years from now, as my current students are sharing their fourth grade yearbooks with friends, they will no doubt receive one of the following two questions: (1) Dude, why the HELL did you buy a yearbook in fourth grade? Loser; and/or (2) Who was that psycho? Was that your teacher? At least I get enjoyment out of these speculations. A guy has to create his legacy somehow....

Not until Friday did one of my students notice the look, and even then only in an offhand way, as she asked, "Did you shave something?" By that time, the stubble from the intervening week had all but overtaken the 'strap. She did, however, follow it with this week's best line (delivered only moments before dismissal.) As I leaned over to point across the room to something, she glanced up at me and yelled, "Ew, you really need to shave your armpits!"

Please, don't give me any ideas.

Week Two: August 31st

If only I could have pulled off Abe's sweet coif on this one as well. Ah, such are the trials of those who shave their heads during the summer. I would have preferred a bit more thickness in the chin region, but that might have been confused for the Amish, which I am sure will happen at a later date.

Looking at the photo now, I should have busted out the bow tie and gone after this in pioneer fashion. Well, I'll make up for it by popping out a fat split-rail fence to sequester our family environs from the rest of our ghetto-hood. Who needs chain link? Split rail is the new fortress!

One of my students noticed, but only enough to ask, "Did you shave something?" While another inquired, "What, you can't grow a mustache? NOT that I want you too." Oh, that day will come my friend, that day will come.

Week One: August 24th

After keeping it clean for the first week of school, it was time to get dirty-faced. I made it as far as Friday's Meet The Teacher (8-14) with a neatly-trimmed goat, pencil-thin sides and a clean, shorn look.

Then I just let things grow the following week, and though I am not a particularly fast grower, I had some nice scrub-face going by the next Friday. (Only one kid asked, "Are you ever going to shave?) We shall see....

So began the official journey with this entry I call the Burgeoning Beard. Nothing serious, but slightly more sand paper than Indy Jones. Every beard has to start somewhere.