Weeks Twenty-One and Twenty-Two: February 7th to 20th

Welcome to the hidden reality of bearding:

Larger and shaggier beards, though truly awe-inspiring and, perhaps, envy-producing, make people uneasy. At least most people feel even more free to say things they would never ordinarily say to people.

Phase One:
"So, you're really letting that thing grow out, huh?"

"Huh, that beard's getting pretty long."

"Wow, I haven't seen a beard worn like that before."

Phase Two:
"So, are you planning to shave that thing?"

"That's a pretty long beard. When are you gonna shave it?"


Phase Three:
"OK, so that beard--you must be getting pretty tired of it now, huh?"

"Wow, that is some beard, doesn't it drive you crazy?"

"That's what you are wearing on your face?"

"Um, yeah, I think it's time to shave. that thing!"

Yes, but you see, the thing is, when you spend this much time cultivating the facial moss-mat like this, you get to enjoy it as much as you might a good pair of socks or favorite shirt, and I can attest that it is at least as warm as the good socks, and not nearly as holey as that shirt. Plus, whereas things of mine, like wardrobe items, that would once qualify as "best," because of their particularly ratty, ragged, or holey attributes, seem to disappear in the loads of laundry that I don't get to before my wife. I have no fear that I will wake up freshly-shorn because she actually enjoys, promotes, and endorses this entire project. And this despite the most frequently-uttered comment/question: "So, you're wife must be getting pretty tired of that..." OR "Well, how does your wife like that?" OR "Sure, you like it, but what does your wife think of it?"

However long this beard lasts, and it will be at least until the end of this school year/beginning of the Summer, it won't disappear because of public peer pressure, nor because of my wife asking me to get rid of it. Count on it!

Week Twenty: January 30th to February 6th

OK, so I'll be the first to admit, I have a long way to go, or grow, as it were. On the bottom, if you have even noticed, is me, with the Snow and Ice Beard in honor of the winter weather we have had much of in the past week. (We had three snow days! The Summer will now commence that much later.)

On the top, which is probably so occupying your attention you may not even be reading this text, is the absolute beard eclipse currently under cultivation by my brother. To be fair (to me) he does have at least a month-and-a-half head start on me.

The plan for these Bro-Beards is to continue growing them at least until the first weekend in May. Why, you may ask? That is the weekend we two bearded brothers will find ourselves traipsing about the slopes of Mount Snow in Southern Vermont. Late-Spring snow? No, nothing of the sort. We will be one of the many semi-psychotic teams running in the Mudder, a challenge designed to test stamina and mental fortitude. (Check it out at toughmudder.com.)

How long will these beards be by then? It is difficult to say. The tangled jaw-mane already ensnares my shirt collars, ties, and jacket zippers throughout the day. My students perpetually test the depth during our read-alouds, sinking their fingers into my jawline and marveling that they disappear up to the second knuckle. "Whoa! I can hardly see my finger anymore!" I will resist the urge to inquire about recent hand hygiene and general cleanliness....

Weeks Eighteen and Nineteen: January 17th to 30th

I was pondering the queries of anyone who stumbles upon this site out there. Now that seemingly everything is connected in microseconds, there is no hiding anything launched into the web that is e-communication. Based on some recent news events, I am sure some folks would wish that not to be the case.

I could imagine someone finding this blog and wondering: "Why does this guy insist on taking close-ups of his face? It's not like he's a good-looking dude..." or "What's with this dude, does he want to be an actor or something?" Then, for the few who might actually read the accompanying text, one can only imagine speculations about me and what kinds of screws rattling loose in my upper region.

No matter: as the beard grows, so does its notoriety. People who have seen me nearly every day of its growth now feel free to comment on it, often with inquiries about how long I plan to keep this up. Though a mostly innocent question, I love the facial expressions with which they deliver it, and revel in the fact that most people make no attempt to control their looks of disgust. Even my students ask, "Um, when are you going to cut it again? It's too big!" Every once in a while one of them pokes a finger into my chin or jaw and then removes it to tell a friend, with shock, "Whoa--it's thick!" One Fifth Grader who hadn't seen me in a couple of weeks (they are in the opposite wing of our school) stopped dead in the middle of the hall yesterday and said, "Oh, NICE beard!" Why thank you; I agree.

Weeks Sixteen and Seventeen: January 3rd to 16th

Normally, I would not even consider naming a beard--that look of rugged manliness--anything close to something my own daughters, those local supporters of anything and everything princess, would say. But, this name did not come from my daughters. For some strange reason, this was the first time many people at school, and ion public, took notice of the beard for its length and proportions. Perhaps it may not have been all that strange after all, considering I finally decided to comb out the chin-locks and let the hairs fly in their non-pillow-pressed form.

What resulted was a tumult of comment and inquiry like so little that preceded it. One of my former students, now a Fifth Grader, should get the full credit for the name, as she came to visit one morning and talked to me for a few minutes before glancing at it and stopping mid-sentence to say, "Wait, what happened to your beard? Why's it so fluffy?" This was among the most popular question of the past two weeks. But a great many people praised the sheer magnitude of that hair which I had previously tucked under my jaw, saying things such as, "I like the new look," and, "It suits you," not to mention, "Yeah, my husband tried to grow one and it never fills in...it's too patchy." The things you learn about spouses, and people, through facial hair history or quite interesting.

Frankly, the hair reaching back, ivy-style, and clamping at my earlobe, and the hairs trailing down my neck to scratch near my jugular had been driving me a bit crazy for a little while. So, after the shower one evening, when I had a brief moment of let's-shave-this-sucker panic, I combed it out. Sure, some tears sprang to my eyes in that involuntary way, such as when you pluck a nose hair (not, of course, that any of you would know anything about that...) but the relief of the smooth, flowing facial locks was quite a sight to behold.

What adventures the beard will encounter in the coming weeks remains to be seen. Our school nurse got a glimpse of it this week and inquired, "Whoa, what's goin' on with that beard, Abe Lincoln?" Oh yeah, mission accomplished!

Weeks Fourteen and Fifteen: December 20th to January 2nd

Ah, those fortunate few students who were present right until the bell on the afternoon of December 22nd--the last full day before the extended Winter Break--they were the only ones to glimpse this epic in the making. For this photo, I combed-out the hair that had been tucked under my chin for weeks, surprising even myself. Those students, both of them, present to witness the spectacle were on the verge of lack of speech, which is saying something for a Second Grader who has only days of free time spreading out before him until the New Year.

I had to savor my glory while it lasted. My parents had been raving about my brother's face-mane for weeks, and in that way in which only hopeful mothers may rave: "Oh, I do hope you boys will shave before we do family photos at Christmas. Of course, she knows both of us well enough to be sure that saying something like that is the only sure way to have the near-twin manes appear in all Christmas photos.

Since I do not get to see my brother very often--he, like my parents, lives in New Hampshire--I had no idea what to expect. I hoped only to capture a photo of Brothers in Beards while we visited. Time will tell...

Week Thirteen: December 13th to 19th

In order to take flight, one needs some sort wing wing-like device or Da Vinci-esque apparatus. Due to my commitment to bearding excellence, and the recent push to ever-increasing facial hair lengths over the quest to win style points, I happily discovered this week's creation: "Take Flight."

Had I not allowed my facial mane to grow to such an extent, curling slightly under the jaw, I would not have happened upon a great hirsute accident. No doubt owing to my hard-sleeping patterns--I often press my pillow so hard with my face that the pillow creases do not shake from my skin until nearly three hours later (though maybe that has something to do with my older face...)--I often awaken with some strange snarls in the chin and jaw region. One day I spied what appeared to be wings on one side of my face, surprising myself with the fact that the hairs curling under my lower mandible had grown to such lengths without my knowledge. Surprising when you consider that my students give me a hard time because, as they say, "you are always playing with your beard."

Back when I was in late elementary school and early middle school, in the time when it was a proven fact that my mother did not relish getting us haircuts of any kind, my hair grew so far down the sides of my head that my slightly-poking out ears forced that hair out and away in the manner of wings. Though I did not approve of the look at the time--even a few years later, after discovering the fastest-talking mumble-barber in town who could shave a nice high-and-tight, I called that winged hairdo my Planet of the Apes look--I now celebrate it any time I see old photos of myself. My brother with the Dutch-Boy bowl-cut and I with my premature mop-top, finely parted down the middle. Who knew what our bearding future held?

Regardless, the wing on the side of my face that fateful morning prompted some facial mashing and beard-tugging to see if I could match it with a symmetrical design. Lo and behold, I could. And so we have the chance, at last, to Take Flight.

Week Twelve: December 6th to 12th

Pre-Week: Well, there really was no pre-week on this one because, as those few loyal followers out there may have noticed, it has been several weeks since I put The Mandible out there for public consumption. What followed was a "(blank)-it-all" week or so of anger and frustration during which I wanted to do little more than be angry. So, for those few of you who turn to this page for enjoyment, I apologize for the delay. Sadly, none of this anger stemmed from beard-related issues...if only!

If you followed The Beard Blog last year (so, three of you) then you'll recall I had a few weeks during the Spring when I let the beard go all kinds of backwoods mountain man and then followed with a beard called "National Beard Certification." That was all as I was completing a year-plus long project for National Board Certification for Teaching. It is a ridiculously long, time-intensive, life-encompassing process that allows you to do little else, especially if you are as obsessive about such achievement-oriented things as I am. I will not bore you with the details of the life-consumption of this process; suffice it to say, even with all that in mind, you know you are facing a somewhat-losing prospect, as about 40% of first-time candidates achieve certification. (And, very few people in the teaching profession even attempt it, so those committed enough to attempt it would surely be crushed by disappointment if they put in all the work and did not achieve it.)

As you may have guessed, I did not manage to make it. So, the day after conferences, I find my self in the troubling position of dealing with unbound anger, mostly at myself, and still the expectation that I teach Second Graders with happiness and patience. Somehow I managed that much--it wasn't their fault, after all.

So, long story short, I took some time away from this Blog, and all extraneous things, and sifted through the rage, only to return, because what better diversion than continuing to cultivate a flowing mane of facial hair? Stay tuned in week's to come...there will be changes!