Week Fourteen: November 23rd

This beard was inevitable. When this journey began, over three months ago, this was the only beard I knew I would do eventually. Those of you who know me also know I am not really a planner, and to date, this wandering tale of the beard has borne that out. I never really know what I am doing until I am looking in the mirror after Saturday's shower, razor in hand. Usually, the "planning" comes down to some internal monologue like this:
"Well, that was a bust.
"What can I do next?
"Oh, da--, just shave it and see what happens! "Hey, this looks decent.
"Now, if I could just stop the bleeding and get out there with the camera...."

All the same, though the Beard Blog is still in its infancy, I have messed with my facial hair for the better part of the last decade. (Which is pretty much the amount of time I have been able to grow anything that would show up in photos as something more than the crust of what might have been hot chocolate residue.)

"The Jackman" is one of my recurring beards, at least during the latter half of that decade of beard exploration.

During my second year of teaching, when my classroom was filled with boys--at sixteen of my twenty-two students, I had a veritable football team locker room in there (in sight and smell)--I loved to probe the boundaries of a menacing mien in the facial variety. Though I used such entries as the "Strong Goat," and the "Harley Handlebar," the "Wolverine" was among the most popular. It coincided with the release of the original X-Men film and, though I had seen no previews of it at the time, one of my gravel-voiced boy students croaked, "Whoa, cool! Mr. Chisholm looks like Wolverine!"

I know what you are thinking: "Yeah, he wishes he looked like Jackman--look at him, barely filling that wife-beater with his paltry physique!" (Well, that or, "How the hell does he get them to call him Mister anything?") Still, the original look got many favorable reviews; and a few extra days of reverence from those boys not quickly inclined to grant anything easily. I bring it back almost every time I let my growth go for a while.

This time around, despite the fact that the latest version of the X-Men movies came out within the year, no one mentioned the resemblance. Maybe I should hit the weights a bit more.

Week Thirteen: November 16th

For those of you unfamiliar with The Tale of Despereaux--and I mean the actual book rather than the bastardized movie version (that wouldn't hold the weight of a sponge in the sea)-- you may not have heard the phrase "such the disappointment" with regularity. In the book, Despereaux's mother utters it with remarkable frequency in regards to her youngest (mouse) son. I view these photos with much the same opinion.

Though "The Ladder" was an interesting idea in theory, the translation to the chin (and camera screen) left much to be desired. There are four rungs on the ladder, though the lowest one fell below the curve of my chin and out of view; while the second rung (below my lower lip) fell victim to an aggressive shaving incident. Perhaps "Rotting," or "Rickety Ladder" would have been more appropriate.

All the same, I did have Parent-Teacher Conferences for my students this week and, though these were the first extended discussions I had with many of these folks, I did see a fair few glance toward my chin with confusion. Not that I can blame them: I too would have wondered what had happened to this strange-looking man who clearly has difficulty shaving. Did he shave in the dark or have some sort of shaken-razor syndrome? Poor fellow. Ah well, only six more months before we are free of his grasp. Then, on to better things ... like the summer!

Week Twelve: November 9th

Though not a fan of Metallica, or the throat-shredding lead man who created the song after which this beard is named, I did respect James Hetfield's facial features in the late 80's and early 90's. Of course, my ability to follow in his bearded wake did not arrive until the late 90's, so I offer this twentieth anniversary tribute the man and his mow-job.

I missed the first two days of school this week while attending a conference. You could probably imagine the looks I got while there; strolling the halls, riding the elevators and lurking in the stairwells of one of St. Louis's finest hotels. In case you are not aware: for me to attend a work conference means that I go from an estrogen-heavy environment (16 of 19 teachers at my school are female) to a place where I spent those two days as one of four males among the 300-strong throng of ladies.

And two of the men were presenters!

You can believe this look did little to endear me to these women as a valuable member of their elementary academic community.

Then again, my return to school was not much better. I was at the dry-erase board, writing a morning note when the first students arrived. They came in with the great exhalation of relief that comes with any teacher returning after a hiatus of more than one day.

Their sighs were quickly replaced by sidelong glances and gasps as they peeked at the beard. One girl leaned in and said, "Hang on, wait..turn toward me. Let me see it...ugh that's gross. Ew, it makes you look fat!"

Maybe if I had the benefit of the mind-altering and body-wasting addictive substances of James Hetfield (from the time of those beards) I would have been skeletal enough for her. As it was, Enter Sandman was good enough for me.

Week Eleven: November 2nd

Alright, before anyone gets all excited and lumps me in with the swarm of teen girls descending upon theaters in droves in the coming weeks to view the second installment of the Twilight saga, this beard is not an homage to the aforementioned books or movies. Let's all take a deep breath here.

Better?

Good.

And before you get any grandiose ideas, thinking back upon past posts (circa: week six--The Middle Finger) no, this was not an attempt to show my better side, displayed upon my chin. Besides, I know my hindquarters would never fit on my face, no matter how big my noggin happens to be. And that is saying something...but what it is, even I don't know.

I call this week's delivery the Full Moon, and tried to do it justice with the photo at left. See: rounded--OK, maybe oval in shape--but nonetheless featuring the telltale craters we see as the "Man in the Moon." Oh yeah, I wore the craters with pride all week.

Maybe inspired by the Halloween weekend, or enjoying that I had finally gained enough thickness on the chin to play around with it and have it show up and stand out, I believed the Full Moon a bold step forward. At the very least it is a gesture of support to my Kindergarten daughter, who faithfully records her nightly moon observations in her Moon Journal. I wonder if her teacher would appreciate a photo of this chin-garden attached to the journal upon its return next month?