Mid-September

Maybe it has something to do with gravity and the aging process...or maybe it is because these frequently-abused chin follicles have given up any forms of resistance they may have previously proffered. Or maybe it is something else...some unexplained mystery of the goat-growing universe that has allowed this goat to begin its journey on such a strong foot, or chin.

Whatever the cause, even I was a bit surprised by the change in the chin from the first check-in to the second. When our girls were babies we took weekly photos of them with a sign letting viewers know which week of their life it was. But we also took a monthly photo as they reached that milestone. We were always amazed to look at the changes in the month-to-month photos that we had not noticed in the week-to-week photos. How could we not have seen these major changes in their bodies until we reviewed the monthly photos? These two goats are like that.

Many things change over a month. Our school year is now a month old and the kids who stormed the scene on opening day are already quite a bit different from the ones who now sit and work in our classroom. So, for the record, YES, I am comparing my goatee growth to the physical changes in our two daughters in their first years of life and the character changes among the students in my classroom since the beginning of school. Let's keep these things in perspective, here! Step back and view the changes from afar. We never notice we are older until we are, many years later...so why would it be any different with chin hair?

Goat Check: A New Beginning

Well intrepid facial hair explorers and loyal follower(s) I must admit that I thought my mid-July trim of the monstrosity that was attached to my face would be the end of our remotely-accessed time together. How could I know the level of inquisition the beard's departure would cause? Who could have predicted the outcry over such a little--OK, LARGE--thing? Or, the absence of a large thing, rather.

People who had grown so accustomed to the beard suddenly whisked past me without a second glance. But almost all of them followed with a standard double-take-and-turn to ask if it was really me. Many people thought I lost massive amounts of weight or had undergone some sort of medical procedure.

Well, they were correct on one count: I have lost weight (over 20 pounds since January, 2011) and quite a bit more from my face. These people did not know what to make of this sudden change. At least the change was sudden for them. They did not own my face...but when you undertake a process such as this, your face become public property and bystanders make suggestions they deem worthy of overruling your desires by eminent domain.

There are very few people I will listen to when it comes to the growth of my facial hair; the brief run at Beard Democracy last year notwithstanding. One such group to whom I will acquiesce are my students, particularly when they take an active interest. I once thought of opening the Beard Democracy up to them, in a teach-them-voting-and-public-governance kind of way. I decided against it, perhaps wisely.

But this year, on opening day of school, August 16, 2011, my students sat with me for our first read-aloud (9:04 AM) and inquired as to the whereabouts of my facial hair. I had but a short-trimmed goatee at the time, and no plans to do much more than tinker with designs and sink back into general disregard for my facial hair except maybe around Conference and Open House time.

There they were asking me about the beard in one breath and challenging me to grow a new one in the next. As tempted as I was, I doubted I would do the same thing two years in a row. After all, I am not even teaching the same grade as last year, having moved up from Second to Third this year. (I have only four of the same students so you could say there are 17 new victims, er, students.)

It was precisely one of these students--a vociferous eight year old, if ever there was one--who dropped the challenge to me on opening day. How could I not like this girl instantly? Coming in with little knowledge of me and my ways and wasting all of seven minutes before issuing what may yet become this year's quest:

...to grow a goatee the entire school year.

So, here I am, on my way to doing just that. I don't know if I will succeed or just get sick of the whole affair by mid-year and hack away with scissors and nail-clippers one desperate day in the future at my desk, but we'll see how far this thing goes. Check back for the progress of this wayward goat, and maybe you'll see what happens.

Week Forty-Two: July 4th to 10th

Thursday morning began normally enough, but the hazards of Camp reared their ugly heads that afternoon during a ferocious round of Camp Bingo. It concluded with me slicing portions of hair off my face and appearing during that evening's sing-along and parent performance as Jafar, or some updated and infinitely more twisted version of him.

The binder clip was my late-night addition, and mostly so the extended chin hairs would not spend the night traveling toward (and into) my mouth. I forgot about the clip and slept with it on. It proved to be so comfortable that I wore it all the next morning during breakfast and our morning hike as we bade the kids farewell. Then I wore it during that morning's run and as I biked home. By that time it was all-but fused to the hairs on my chin, as I had applied liberal amounts of sculpting gel in a vain attempt to mold my chin hair into that classic Jafar wave.

Once home it was time for a little more trimming which, of course, I took the time to document, as you will see below:

I enjoy this one, and debated keeping it for the next week. The twisty 'stache and gigantic chops were a nice Gangs of New York look. Bill the Butcher I was not.... This photo does give you a good sense of the uneven growth on the opposite sides of my face. I did nothing to trim the burns or the beard until this day, and that really is how much longer the right side was than the left.

Of course, I wanted to see what it looked like with only one massive 'burn and the look did not disappoint.

I thought I would keep this sweet 'stache for the week, waxing the tips and turning the next few days into a handlebar showcase. Maybe that just exceeded the limits of my creepiness because, in the end, as you will see below, that did not happen.

He's got his whole beard, in his hand....

So there it is, the first time I have seen my full face in over nine months. An odd sight, to say the least. Someone who saw me later that day told me I "shaved twenty years off my face." Another wondered "where the rest of (me) went." People at my usual haunts--the Library and Produce Stand, hardly recognized me. I hardly recognize myself.

It was a good run while it lasted, but it was time for a change and time to give my facial follicles a break. Until next time...keep growing!

Week Forty-One: June 27th to July 3rd

In the waning weeks of The Beard it is probably fortuitous that I work at ZooCamp, where the odd is acceptable, if not expected.

What you see here, the second consecutive week in which I tested the flexibility of my chin hair and facial skin by stringing things onto my beard, is my Camp version of Jack Sparrow.

People were actually surprised that this was the first time I had put on guy-liner. It shouldn't be all that surprising...after all, everything else I have done up to this point has been completely normal, right? And if you are wondering, yes, that is a mop atop my dome. The sanity of wearing this for what followed (an hour-long singing and dancing marathon to get the kids fired up for our Camp overnight, and give parents a glimpse of the Camp craziness) is debatable. I do know I had to take the entire thing home to wash it. That yellow shirt was transparent enough with my sweat that you could see chest hair. How exciting! (Though maybe not for everyone involved in the areas outside my shirt.)

These are the waning weeks of The Beard, which is why you will see a photo of it in its nine-month form at the bottom of this post. It has been quite a journey, much like giving birth to a growth on my face, though that was not my intention. As the Summer turns toward July, I would never be able to endure the sweat-mopping aspects of the massive beard any longer. Next week, there will be some cuts.

As it winds down, and grows larger, people have less fear about asking me strange questions. At Sports Authority this week to buy new running shoes, one of the cashiers asked me "how long it took to grow my face." Good one, as it was one I had not yet heard. The folks in the Education Department at the Zoo apparently know me as "The Fierce Beard," which is exciting in its own way. Maybe I will send them the beard in a bag, atop the hair I shaved off my head earlier this Summer.

One of the men working at the Library in town yesterday told me I looked like Tolstoy. That was a new one. The good folks at blogspot will not allow me to copy pictures I do not own into their pages, so the intriguing images I discovered of Tolstoy himself will not appear here. However, if you seek a diversion one day, check out any Tolstoy images and see for yourself...

...separated at birth?

Week Forty: June 20th to 26th

Yes, this was as frightening as it looked and, no, I did not keep this look the entire week. On the one hand, it would have been nice if I ever needed an extra snack throughout the day; on the other, it would have been pretty nasty after several of my longer runs, not to mention the condition of rolled oats after a shower...? Why are all those birds and squirrels flocking to your beard?

Suffice it to say, it was hard enough to get the smell out of my beard. Much like walking into a smoky room or standing anywhere near a campfire, the smell of rolled oats clung to my chin hair like stank to a rediscovered moldy sock.

Of course, all of this was worth it, just to see the looks I got from the parents at the camp sing-along on Thursday night. I imagine their farewlls to the campers as they departed for the overnight: "Have a good night, honey. Have fun...and, by the way, stay away from that man with the breakfast cereal on his face. Something's not right with him."

Perhaps there is something all too right....

It took me about thirty-five minutes to string all of these o's on my face. For each one I had to twist a clump of hair until it put me on the verge of eye-watering pain, then fold over the tips to make what looked like a shepherd's hook. That made it easier to thread through the o in the center of the rolled oat and doubled as a means to hold the o in place once I released my grip.

Classic stuff. Things they never teach you in school.

Week Thirty-Nine: June 13th to 19th

Excellent! I just had to see what this looked like before I started the gradual beard-thinning trim in a few weeks. The warmer it gets here--and living in a river valley, we get the nice beard-clumping humidity--the more I want to pare the look. It's grabbing at my shirt collars and reaching out for my earlobes like the accursed Wrigley ivy. We are close.

Still, what beard-venture would be complete without the always classic hairless look? What really makes me laugh is the number of people who are now so confused that they believe I have trimmed the beard. I can only imagine the internal monologue..."Hmmm, let's see, something is different about his look this week...did he finally listen to all my hints and trim that beard...no, that couldn't be it...but what else could it be...OK, that's it, maybe I should say something...."

This look is now so Viking it scares me, but in a good way.

Week Thirty-Eight: June 6th to 12th

I wondered how long it would take to reach this pre-Dumbledore point in facial farce-itude and then I forgot about it until recently. I was amazed at how much this particular facial arrangement hurt. The rubbery hair-band, not traded with the post-lice-infested girls, yanked at my chin in the way that Joan Rivers must have often experienced facial-tugging. No worries for those of you who care about such things as my personal appearance: I only wore this for the photo. For a photo of this week's beard stick around until the bottom of the page.

I was back at the Zoo this week after many months away and all the people who only see me there during the Summer got a full-facial of the beard in all its chinny glory. Everything that happened gradually over the months of school happened in one glorious week at the Zoo. The reactions ran the usual gamut of shock and awe, but I have to relate one here in its entirety because it captured the greatest beard moment thus far.

It began when I ran into one of the custodians/grounds crew men at the Zoo. He and I have been friendly over the years, telling each other of zoo adventures and family things--he's always curious about why we do the weird things (blonde hair dye, head-shavings, lightning bolt facial hair) we do at Camp so we chat about that often.

He saw me coming out of the Camp tent and he stopped cold...

"Whoa! You grew a beard...!"

"Oh yeah, I just let it go."

"Wow, and that's...that's a different kind of beard too!"

"Yeah, I have heard that one a few times."

"Yeah, man, you look like a Quaker or something."

"Heard that one too."

"You know, if you trim it up, it will look...well, it will look..., it will actually look nice."

Much of the rest of the conversation followed that tone, as he tried to convince me I looked terrible and I eased him into the fact that I could care less. Such is life....