As most of you know, I teach PE twice a week at a private Catholic school here in town.
Hubs loves to quote Jack Black, in the movie “School of Rock,” by saying, “Those who can teach, do; those who can’t, teach gym.”
Hubs is so stinking funny. Everyone thinks I married him for his biceps, when it was really his wit and humor that drew me in.
Regardless, today was my first day back, after the Swine Flu ’09 Quarantine at our house, and it felt good to be back in my gym. When the little kindergarteners arrived, they all threw their arms around me and squealed, “Miss Tammy! Miss Tammy! You’re back! We missed you!” And if that doesn’t make your heart feel like Jell-O in a microwave, I don’t know what does.
Naturally, I hugged them all and told them how glad I was to be back with them, too, until one of them looked me dead-pan in the eyes and said, “Miss Tammy, you look so different. In fact, you look like you’re in a disguise today.”
Their teacher, who had walked them to the gym, was still standing by the door. We exchanged a glance that said, without words, “What is he talking about??” Mrs. S. shrugged and gave me the grin that simply said, “Good luck with them!” Then she was gone.
I turned back to little A. and asked, “Why do I look like I’m in a disguise today?”
“Well, because you have long hair today, and I’ve never even seen you with hair before.”
People, I’m the first to admit that my hair has a will of its own that even the Holy Spirit struggles to tame and bring under control. There are days when I want to throw the can of aerosol hairspray through the bathroom mirror in frustration. (Oh yes, AERO-SOL. The environmentally friendly hairsprays in a pump have done me wrong too many days in a row, so they are now all dead to me.) But seriously? He’s never seen me with hair before??!
Unable to just let sleeping dogs lie, I pushed the conversation a bit further by asking, “A., why do you say that you’ve never seen me with hair before?”
“Well, Miss Tammy, I think your head used to be all rounded and hairless last week, but today you have hair, and you look really nice, so I like you in this disguise.”
Clearly, A.’s mama is going to have to hurry and stage a bit of an intervention here, if she has any hopes at all of seeing him go to his high school prom.
When Kindergarten PE was finished, little A. came running up to me and said, “Miss Tammy, you invent the best games to play ever!”
Yeah, Kid, don’t try to win my heart over now; you’ve already called my head “rounded and hairless.” Girls tend to remember things like that for quite a while, no matter how many more compliments you try to pile on us.