Hayleigh Black was sent home from school for her “disruptive” hair color on the first day of school her junior year. The problem I have with the school making this particular decision is two-fold. First — Hayleigh dyed her hair to the current color three years prior, so the school system has had ample opportunity to advise her the color was too bright. Why wait three years before taking action??? Second — the highly contradictory statements by Muscle Shoals superintendent Brian Lindsey.

The principal is just following the policy. Several girls were sent home for hair color.

The policy was put in place years ago and it very rarely ever comes up as an issue.

Not to be rude, but which is it? If it rarely comes up, then why were “several girls” sent home for hair color?

Hayleigh’s story lead me to that of Amber Campbell, a high school junior last year, who in November (two months after the start of school) was suspended for not toning down her natural hair color. When Amber stated that it was her natural hair color, the school basically called her a liar and suspended her until she complied with the policy. This is a situation where a quick trip through school pictures should tell the tale, but even so, why would it take the school two months to decide that someone’s hair color was disruptive?

Okay, so both of those examples were about hair color… what about style? Enter twelve-year-old Vanessa VanDyke who was told she could be expelled if she didn’t either cut her hair or straighten it. Kids had been teasing Vanessa about her hair, and her response was that she likes it because it makes her unique. Or we could look at seven-year-old Tiana Parker who was told her dreads were unacceptable, though she had worn the same hair style the previous year.

And what about the most current story about five-year-old Malachi Wilson, a Navajo on his father’s side and Kiowa on his mother’s side, who was sent home on his first day of kindergarten for having hair that was too long. The irony? His school is the home of the Seminole Indians, and on the side of the gym it states, “Welcome to the Tribe.” The school wanted the five-year-old to tuck his long hair down his shirt. Add to this the case of Kamryn Renfro, the nine-year-old who cut her hair to support her friend with cancer who lost her hair and we see that these are not isolated incidents, but an increasingly prevalent concern.

The biggest concern I have with these issues is the trend toward a totalitarian society they signify. I have probably said this before, but if I haven’t … our hair is one of the easiest things we can change to help us express ourselves. Whenever we feel the need for a change, most people start with a change of hairstyle. Why? Because hair grows. We can cut it, color it, straighten it, curl it — do whatever we want to express a portion of who we are. It says something about us. Hayleigh colors hers red to help show she’s not just a good student, Vanessa likes how her puffiness makes her unique, Malachi wants to honor his heritage, Kamryn made a statement to support a friend, and I add pink to my hair for a variety of reasons — the latest of which is in celebration of beating cancer. How do any of these things detract from the ability to learn in school?

Because to me, that’s one of the more frightening aspects of this trend. We are deliberately putting policies in place to reduce the differences between students rather than putting policies in place to help acknowledge and celebrate the differences between students to help promote more widespread acceptance. When you are taught not to be different, then you are taught not to accept what IS different. When you are taught not to be different, you are taught to fear things which are different. Fear has been bred by ignorance. Vanessa has been teased by her classmates because her hair is different. Maybe if all her classmates hair were different, there would be nothing to tease her about because she would have been accepted as being different because that was the “normal” thing to be.

I can’t help but think school policies are going in the wrong direction. I understand they are trying to promote learning by minimizing distractions, but does that really serve our students well? I’ll give you the potential need at the elementary level, but honestly fail to see how Tiana’s dreads or Malachi’s long hair could be a distraction, except that it has now been made an issue by the school administrators. So for Malachi, the issue was created by the administration and his classmates are aware he didn’t attend the first day because of his hair. NOW it’s a distraction it otherwise would not have been. However, in upper levels of school, especially by high school, we should be preparing students to enter the world of adulthood. And adulthood is dominated by distractions. If we have not trained our students how to focus on the task at hand despite the distractions, how will they effectively be able to enter the work place? In my job, I have distractions occur all the time. If I got thrown off by the distractions and allowed it to throw me off track, I wouldn’t have my job. We should welcome the opportunity for kids to continue learning in an environment filled with distractions because it helps them learn how to block them out and better prepares them for college and ultimately the work place. And truthfully, the color, style, or length of someone’s hair would only be a temporary distraction at best.

The post The Wild Hair appeared first on Be the Cat.

This may be a short post (but knowing me, it won’t be ) A few days ago, I talked about getting my hair chopped off because it has become quite bushy and out of control, and for those who have not yet met me in person, I have a ton of hair. I have been waiting to get it cut because I needed to know whether I was going to add pink to it … and since I won’t be, I decided it could all get cut off and then I’ll grow it out again. This picture doesn’t quite do it justice as far as showing the out-of-controlness that has taken over my head. For once it was behaving, but it does show some of the waves I have in my hair, as well as the fact that I take terrible pictures of myself. Oh, you can also see my puffy eyes—my eyes are small, but they are not that small. Allergies have been trying to take up residence and I am battling them back as best I can. They are NOT welcome here.

The picture at the top of this piece speaks to me about the leaves of change. The fall has always been an exciting time of change. And this fall has been no different. The old things fall away to make room for those things new. For me, the cutting of my hair is symbolic of the changes going on. I needed at the very least a trim, but the idea to go short took hold for several reasons. The root of which is that I do like to do different things with my hair, and since it’s not the best idea to color it for awhile, I wanted to do something, and going short gives me a different versatility than when shoulder length or to my waist. And here’s the best thing of all … it’ll grow back if I want it to. My hair is a change I can control (or at least have the illusion of control) when right now so many things in my body are not within my control. AND it was a blast getting it cut. If I can’t have fun with this, then what is the point?

The stylist knew I had a strong wave in my hair, but she was surprised by the amount of curl that came out. She had so much fun playing with it while cutting it. I’ve dealt with it’s stubborn curliness for too many years to be surprised. Wearing it long does help to tame it a bit, so now it’ll have the chance to live life on the wild side. And believe it or not, the long hair helped to hide some of the eye puffiness. (I should not be allowed to try taking self-portraits, but I wanted to post the before and after pics)

All in all, it was a good day. I worked this morning and accomplished a few things… always good. Then I had my hair cut and picked up the girls (my dogs, Phoenix and Elsa) from the groomers. Next Denny and I watched REDS 2 and laughed throughout. I have made the sweet potatoes (my contribution to tomorrow’s feast) and my mother arrived safely at her destination despite holiday traffic and suspect weather forecasts.

It is now Thanksgiving … and I have so MUCH to be thankful for, so here goes. I’m Thankful for:

• My family—I love them so much and they are there for me when I need them. From immediate to extended, I do count on them. And my pups are always there for me (and a part of my family) and when I’m down, they curl up beside me and I feel better.
• Friends—I have been blessed in the friends I have. I marvel almost every day over the people in my life and how supportive and caring they are. I hope I am as good a friend to them.
• The writing community—although I count so many of you as friends, I wanted to express my thankfulness for having a community I can reach out to when celebrating the good things, and to help me over the stump when things aren’t going as well. For the most part, I see writers helping writers, and I love that.
• My Characters—Without them, I wouldn’t be who I am … a little off-center, but they help me tell the stories that will have an impact.
• My day job—I am thankful to have a workplace and work that fulfills me in addition to allowing me to earn a paycheck. It helps me so much, especially right now, to have a job to focus on when I can’t focus on other things.
• My doctors—They will see me through this bump in the road and help make me stronger on the other side of it.
• For Chemotherapy—While it may make me feel sick, I am so thankful science has developed drugs that will help my sick body become better. Several years ago this would not have been possible. In fact, several years ago, I wouldn’t have even known I was sick and we wouldn’t know that something needed to be done. I’d just continue to feel unwell and that something was vaguely wrong.
• For being alive—I have always been thankful for each and every day I’ve been given. Most days are good ones, and as long as I can say that, I will continue to feel blessed.

There are so many more things I’m thankful for, but I simply cannot list them all. I have been blessed by all I have been given and hope that I pass those blessings along to others. That is my goal in life.

The post Being Curly and Blessed appeared first on Be the Cat.

Last night I was finishing up some work stuff and trying to figure out what my evening would look like, when I smelled a waxy, unscented, burning candle-like smell coming from downstairs. Denny was downstairs puttering around in the kitchen getting ready for work (he worked graveyard last night). Next thing I know, Elsa (my little blonde pup) is upstairs, plumping both paws on my left leg, giving me the full pick me up treatment and panting hard. I told her no and gently pushed her paws aside. She then ran around to my right leg and repeated her performance. I again told her I wasn’t picking her up and asked what was wrong. Usually, she takes my no and curls up at my feet. Not to be denied, she squeezed past my legs onto the small desk shelf and crawled up my legs into my lap.

She was distraught and shaking, so I cuddled her for a few moments and set her down… she crawled into my lap again after running out to the landing to peer down the stairs. I couldn’t figure out what had her so excited and unnerved that she needed to be held.

Until Denny came up the stairs, rack from the toaster over in hand and said, “You know how you always tell me to put a plate under my food …” and showed me how the plastic plate had melted onto the rack. *sigh* He’s right, I have told him once or twice to make sure he puts a plate under whatever he’s heating up … in the microwave.

Why am I telling this story (other than the fact that it is funny and the house didn’t burn down)? It certainly isn’t to make fun of Denny for making a mistake. Or to point out how on the ball Elsa was in trying to alert me to something be wrong down below. The reason I am sharing this story is it so aptly illustrates how Denny is handling the journey with me through cancer and chemotherapy. As I mentioned before this journey is not mine, and mine alone. My health and well-being affects my family and friends, just as theirs affects me. Truthfully, Denny has been having a tougher time of things than I have. Forgetting things (like my 1st chemo appt.), being more tired, making mistakes he would never otherwise make. Like this one.

It’s not like heating things up in the toaster oven is a foreign activity for him. We use the toaster oven on a daily basis … and I mean we and not me. And yes, I recently had to remind him to put something under the food in the microwave—which he also already knows. So why is he so forgetful? Do I think he’s starting to go into early Alzheimer’s territory?

No. I don’t think dementia is setting in. I truly believe he is suffering from worrying too much about how things are going to go with me, and pushing those feelings down instead of talking about the fears. When you suppress so many feelings, and force yourself to be strong, there are negative side effects. He’s suppressing so much right now, he’s close to suppressing everything, so things that you know and take for granted that you know? Gone. One moment you know you need to take your keys to leave in your car… the next, you’re walking out the door without them. Why are you so forgetful? Because your mind is so occupied with keeping those things from you that you’re afraid to deal with or reveal.

I picture his mind much like the picture above. He will have a clear, almost sunny stretch, where lucid thought is easy, and he has his usual firm grasp on the essentials, but then something will trigger a thought about me, and the clouds come rolling in trying to bury the fears by hiding them in the mist. What are his fears? I can only guess. Fear that I will need more care than he feels capable of. Fear of losing me. Fear of my being in pain. In some ways, it is much easier to be the patient. I’ll deal with the hell when it comes, and I won’t be dealing with it alone. But Denny feels like he is alone in what he has to deal with. How can he possibly burden me with his fears? In some respects, he’s right. At the moment, I’d be able to deal with his fears just fine, but depending on how my journey continues, things may reach a point where I wouldn’t be able to help him deal with his fears. (And I’m hoping that won’t happen, and expect that it won’t—so far anyway.) But he’s not alone. And I hope to help him see that. BEFORE the house burns down.

So how am I? Pretty good. Trying to get the sleep disruption under control. Still. Better night last night, but the night before that was pitiful. I have been taking the time not writing to do a little reading. Something I love and need to make more time for. I almost started writing last night. The characters (Tim and Tom) were willing and I had opened up the WIP (Work In Progress), but then I closed it. After getting better pain-wise, my right hand was hurting quite a bit after the full day’s work. The past few days have been a lot of coding work and I have not been wearing my compression glove because it was causing too much pain after removal. Which means I have to take extra care in not wearing out my hands with typing.

I tried to get a hair appointment for tomorrow to get my hair cut off (yes, I’m going short), but my stylist is getting over a cold, so the shearing will happen on Wednesday. Today is better pain wise, but I will also not work tonight for the same reason. By the end of the work day, my nerves in my hand, wrist, and forearm are tingling. Not only that… the tingles are migrating to the left. With the bloating and water retention and the little white cells running around and giving all the other blood cells the pep talk, it would sincerely be nice if my body would allow me a chance to write a little. I think my characters have settled down, and they are starting to talk to me again. But tonight, I will be good, and read.

Tomorrow—I write.

The post How We Forget appeared first on Be the Cat.