Transformations - #4 - curricula renewal by Manny

---

This is the final chapter of a multi-part story
-----------------------------------------------


Marv watched the students file into his classroom on the second day under the new regime. A few had been prompt in updating their appearances, wearing the newly required geeky uniforms and sporting hair shorn to regulation.

Most of these lads had opted for a ‘short back and sides’ with their hair plastered over with Brylcreme.

There was a lot of hooting and mocking by the still-longhairs, taunting them with names like "goody two shoes" and "holy rollers." The shaggy lads flaunted their uncut locks and jeered at the nerds.

"The scoffers’ day will come," Marv remarked in a semi-amused tone.

He wondered how many boys would leave St. Ignatius permanently on account of the changes. There was a lot of talk to that effect.

On Wednesday, well over half the boys arrived at school freshly shorn, including one of the big leaders on campus who shed his amazing mane of Travolta-like locks for a tidy crewcut. He didn’t seem so cocky and self-assured without his mass of hair swept back in a puff of fluff.

By Thursday, the number of hold-outs was under 10%.

Mr. Branson’s hands must be tired, Marv thought, imagining the barber shearing one mane after another, a line of awaiting lads extending out the door of his shop.

Of course, the students could go anywhere for their haircuts. A few who showed up with simple baldy cuts said their fathers had mowed off their hair in the garage. Poor creatures, looked like escaped convicts!

One of the longhair hold-outs particularly interested Marv â€" his pet student, Pete Swanson.

Pete had the most amazing mane of shimmering gold that was forever tumbling over his crystal blue eyes. He was handsome, for sure, but not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Fairly often, Pete would stop by Marv’s room after school to clarify a few points from class, ask questions about the homework, or just chat. Pete wasn’t embarrassed about being the teacher’s pet. In fact, he rather liked it.

So, it wasn’t totally unexpected when Pete knocked on Marv’s classroom door after the last bell and politely asked if he could come in.

"Of course!" Marv replied, happy to see the lad. "But, I haven’t assigned any homework yet. Do you have questions about today’s classroom lecture?"

"I’ve just come to say good-bye," Pete replied, his voice tinged with sadness.

"Why? Whatever for?" Marv stammered, totally caught off guard.

Pete ran his fingers through his hair nervously.

"Uh, really, it’s not just this...not wanting to look like a dork. But, the school is turning into a military academy! I’ve been at St. Ignatius a long time and always felt a part. But all this religiosity being crammed down our throats now," Pete explained. "We’re Lutheran. Proud of our Scandinavian heritage! My father flipped out over the requirements that we recite the rosary in chapel everyday with no opt outs, like before. I said I didn’t mind. It was just mumbo-jumbo. Anyways, he left the decision to me…."

"Where would you go?" Marv asked, thinking about poor Pete flailing about academically, without any private tutoring like he regularly got at St. Ignatius.

"My father is going to press his golf buddies who are on the board of Ivy Tower Prep School. But space is a problem, and…." Pete stammered.

"….and your grades?" Marv asked.

"That too," the shaggy lad admitted, shaking his head in a vague, despondent manner.

Then, Pete look directly at his favorite teacher and added, "I will miss you so much, Marv. Can I call you that now that you won’t be my teacher anymore? But, I knew you wouldn’t want me to cut my hair. You always tell me how nice it looks. And, at the end of last term, when I was taking a test and asked a question, the way you stroked my hair so tenderly as you explained things to me…"

Marv’s face flushed with embarrassment. He had no idea Pete would take notice of or remember that quick, impulsive gesture.

"Pete, you not wanting to cut your hair so that you don’t look like a dork is one thing. Not wanting to cut it because you think that I might mind…." Marv replied earnestly.

"Oh, it’s so confusing! I want to stay, but…" Pete stammered nervously.

The two stared at each other, feeling helpless to resolve the matter.

Marv was suddenly seized with an idea.

"How about this? If it’s a bit of courage you need, let’s go to the barber shop together!" he exclaimed. "Teachers don’t have to follow the new grooming code, but we’ve been encouraged to lead by example. I’ve been thinking about getting one of the four permitted haircuts myself. It would be a bonding experience, the two of us getting short haircuts at the barbershop. Something to remember for years to come."

Pete’s eyes widened. Marv had always been quite particular about his hair â€" every wavy lock in place. Groomed and brushed to perfection.

The idea of bonding with him at the barber shop, their protected locks falling to the cape, appealed to Pete immensely. Marv’s head bowed low, no way out of his commitment….and then, the barber running a clippers tightly up the back!

"Really?!" Pete exclaimed. "You would cut your hair for me?"

"That’s how much I hope you’ll stay at St. Ignatius, Pete," Marv replied, all smiles.

"But let’s be different than the others," Pete began to babble enthusiastically, as if he’d been lit on fire. "I’ve noticed that none of the fellows are sporting flattops, like Mr. Kendall’s."

Marv’s jaw dropped. A flattop on him?!? OMG, he was not prepared for that….

"Will you? Go flat?! Plied with butch wax and very SHORT!" Pete begged. "Let’s you and me stand out from everyone else!"

Marv swallowed his trepidation reluctantly. It was a scary, but strangely appealing thought.

Finally, he blurted out as he jumped to his feet, "Yes! Let’s go, NOW!"

Pete lunged toward him and clapped a bear hug around his favorite teacher. What a great guy -- willing to get a flattop just to keep him enrolled at St. Ignatius!

The lad’s streaming golden hair felt like pure silk on Marv’s cheek as the spontaneous embrace lasted a bit longer than it should have.

Marv pulled away. Then he reached over and tenderly pushed Pete’s hair out of his eyes. Marv took his time fondling the golden flow and caressing it tenderly. It would soon be history….

"A flattop, eh? No more hair in your face, then, young man. Those sparkling eyes will always be visible," Marv noted.

Pete smiled sheepishly.

"Shall we head to Branson’s Barber Shop?" Marv said, guiding Pete to the classroom door.

The teacher and student walked quickly through the halls to the parking lot.

"You won’t mind saying the rosary in chapel? Are you sure, Pete?" Marv asked.

"Ave María, grátia plena, Dóminus tecum; benedícta tu in muliéribus, et benedíctus fructus ventris tui, Iesus," Pete droned cheerfully. "And that part is straight from the Bible. Why should my father object?"

Then, he continued, "And, I’m really excited about getting a flattop. It’s so outrageous, it’ll be cool! Especially if we sport twin tops, Marv! I won’t be able to take my eyes off you and your flattop when you’re up in front droning on and on about some boring topic like the 100 Years War."

In the car, it was Pete’s turn to fuss over and fondle his teacher’s hair.

"You don’t mind me doing this, while the two of us are alone, do you, Marv?" he asked. "I can’t wait to watch the barber zip off this floppy forelock. Snag it with a comb and send it to the cape. Have you ever had your hair cut extremely short?"

"Never! It’ll be a new experience," Marv laughed nervously. "I’ll feel naked without my helmet hair."

"You’re the most important person in my life," Pete said, suddenly, still gazing at his teacher.

Marv looked at him, quickly. That handsome face and lovely blond locks. Soon to be falling in sheaves to the floor of Branson’s Barber Shop, like an abundant harvest of wheat in autumn.

"Which of us will be first in the chair?" Marv asked, nodding toward Branson’s Barber Shop which had just come into view ahead.

"Let’s flip for it," Pete suggested.

He found a coin in Marv’s car console. "I call heads, and….heads it is! I’m first!" Pete exclaimed.

"Let’s not get landing strips like Mr. Kendall’s," Marv suggested, beginning to feel some regret about their little trip to Branson’s. "Instead, let’s opt for longish flattops with some pile on top."

"Nope. Just like Mr. Kendall’s! Landing strip and all," Pete protested. "Or are you chickening out, Mr. Pretty Boy?"

Pete suddenly grasped Marv’s plush, floppy businesscut and tugged at it threateningly. "This pampered hair is getting pared down to the minimum, Marv! I want a nice wide strip on top," he exclaimed.

"If that’s what it takes to keep you at St. Ignatius, then, so be it," Marv laughed nervously.

Pete virtually pulled Marv to the shop and pushed him in the door.

"Ah, two more hold-outs, almost at the deadline," Mr. Branson said as the pair walked in.

He continued chatting, pointing toward the trash can, "This is the first lull I’ve had all week. Look at all that cut hair piled up! I’ve been taking the moptops down almost non-stop since school started. Okay, fellows, which of you is first?"

"I am!" Pete said, bounding toward the chair. "We’re both here for flattops â€" just like the one Mr. Kendall is sporting."

"Ah, my favorite! Tight and manly! Not for sissy boys," Mr. Branson crowed. "I’m surprised that’s what you want, Goldilocks!"

"Go ahead, have your fun," Pete remarked. "Goldilocks will soon be history. And, it’ll be ‘hello, Sgt. Pete’!"

Mr. Branson cast the cape and pulled it tightly around Pete’s long, graceful neck.

"Such pretty hair," the barber murmured. "So long, too, dangling towards your shoulders. It’s a wonder you weren’t mistaken for a beauty queen."

Mr. Branson brushed Pete’s mane vigorously, intensifying the natural sheen. "Mommy will weep when you return home without these precious locks this evening."

Pete laughed at the faux mourning Mr. Branson was conjuring up.

"You want to take the first few chops off the lad, Marv? Give my tired hand a break?" Mr. Branson asked.

"You bet!" Marv replied.

He hopped up and took the barber shears.

"Ready, pal?" Marv asked, identifying a prime lock at the nape to whack off.

He didn’t wait for a response. The sound of the scissors slicing through thick, dry hair sang out. Marv held up a tress of cut hair and then watched it fall to his feet.

Secretly, what he wanted to do was keep the lock as a memento, but Mr. Branson was watching him closely.

"You should become a barber, Marv," Pete laughed. "You look like a natural."

SNIP, SNIP, SNIP. The shears continued at the nape. Lots of length came off the back. It was a wondrous scene, watching the copious flow fall to the floor.

"Ready to take back control of the haircut, Mr. Branson?" Marv asked.

The barber reached for the largest set of Oster clippers.

CLICK. Buzzzzzzzz.

Pete’s head was pushed forward.

"Okay, Goldy, here it goes…." the barber warned just as the clippers flew tightly up the back.

"Hot dog!" Pete gasped. "That feels incredible. Wait till you’re in the chair here, Marv!"

Marv’s stomach churned at the thought….but, he had to admit the bonding experience with Pete was something he wouldn’t soon forget.

Pete’s head was wrenched this way and that as Mr. Branson skinned his sides and back. The cape was covered with shimmering gold. Then he snagged the forelock with a comb and zipped it off in one quick move of the clippers.

"Whoa!" Marv gasped from the waiting area. "Is anything going to be left up on top?"

"Not much, no," Mr. Branson laughed. "But Goldilocks is taking it very well. Look at that grin. You should have seen Mr. Kendall squirming in this chair as I mowed off his executive look. I thought he would burst into tears! He managed to get through his transformation without weeping, but the way he slunk out of here feeling his shorn head. Ha! How’s he doing now under the new regime at St. Ignatius?"

"Poor man. He’s been banished to the basement and dressed in janitorial overalls. We only see him carrying around a toolbox, on his way to fix a broken light switch or change the seal on a leaking toilet," Marv explained.

"You know, that’s what St. Ignatius needs! A vocational option, like in the old days when my Pa went there," Mr. Branson said as he began to take down Pete’s top. "Not every kid needs to go to college and be fed intellectual junk food. What are your career plans, Goldy?"

Pete’s face clouded over. "No idea. Marv can tell you that I’m no Albert Einstein. But, I’ve heard plumbers make good money."

"I think we’re on to something here," Marv said, excited. "I’m going to talk to Jim. Maybe we can widen the demographic and take in some kids from the inner city. I’d like to teach woodworking and carpentry instead of history. There’s plenty of room in the basement for a big workshop for vocational training."

Mr. Branson whisked the stray cut hairs from Pete’s face with a big duster and then held up a mirror in back.

"There, it’s the new you, young man!" Mr. Branson said as he removed the barber cape carefully and sent all the cut hair to the linoleum floor.

"What do you think?" Pete asked as he left the chair and modeled his new look for Marv.

"I can just see it now. A sign over a small shop on Main Street. Pete’s Plumbing!" Marv exclaimed.

"Yes! Exactly! No way I’m going to become a financial advisor like my father hopes will happen," Pete said.

"Okay, time to shed that worn professorial look, Marv, and get a makeover! The clippers are calling," Mr. Branson sang out, tapping on the big barber throne.

As he stood, Marv’s legs felt like jelly. He glanced at Pete who was almost unrecognizable without his golden flow. The lad felt his clipped head gingerly.

"Wow, so short. So cool," Pete cooed.

Marv staggered toward the chair. He had no choice but to go through with it.

"Take it easy on me, Mr. Branson," Marv said as he eased into the soft leather upholstery of the chair.

"I certainly will not!" the barber snapped playfully. "You two will leave here looking like twins."

Mr. Branson brushed Marv’s hair and smoothed it with his hands.

"A nice, thick head of hair here. Perfect for a flattop," Mr. Branson stated, reaching for his trusty Oster’s.

He snagged Marv’s bulky forelock with his comb and then approached it menacingly with the clippers.

"How about we start here?" the barber asked.

Marv gulped nervously.

Then, in a flash, the forelock fell. Like a rock. To the cape!

"Timber," cried Pete from the waiting area. "Looking good, Marv!"

"Love to do that on a first-time flat," Mr. Branson crowed. "Nervous man, finally works up the courage to say he wants a flattop. And, then, zip! The forelock falls and there’s no turning back!"

Marv’s head was thrust down and the barber held the position for a bit while Marv stared at the shorn lock in his lap. Then, after a few seconds, the clippers came up through his nape.

The first drive up the back mowed off a lush padding of soft hair. Mr. Branson expertly flicked it so that the falling hair looked like fireworks on the 4th of July.

Mr. Branson worked with alacrity as we reduce Marv’s professional look to a lean, mean flattop. There was no mercy as the sides and back were stripped bare.

"Sit up straight, now," Mr. Branson told Marv and he brush the thick hair straight back.

With a clippers, he took off the bulk of hair.

Marv sat still and submissive.

Closer and closer down, the top was taken.

At last came the swipe that sent an electric-like jolt through the caped teacher.

"AGH!" Marv shrieked as the clippers grazed the top of his head.

"Runway #2 ready for takeover," Mr. Branson laughed. "Just let me widen and lengthen it a bit, so that it can accommodate a Jumbo 747!"

When the haircut was over, Marv stared at himself in disbelief.

"Can you snap a photo of the two of us together?" Pete asked Mr. Branson.

"Of course! Superior male bonding at the barbershop. And you two look manly!" Mr. Branson exclaimed.

Marv blushed as the photos were taken. He never felt closer to Pete, and he was glad he had made the sacrifice.

"Now, no letting this grow out! Understood, Marv?" Pete asked, fondling the short, erect hairs the graced the hairline like a shiny tiara.

Once outside, Marv lamented, "I just wish we could have it both ways….your beautiful blond mane and the amazing flattop."

"Here, this is for you," Pete said, handing Marv a lock of his hair. "I salvaged it from my lap at the end of the haircut. I want you to have it, so that after I graduate you have a memory of me and this day in our lives."

Neither Marv nor Pete could stop feeling or taking peeks at their new haircuts when they got in the car.

The next day, the duo was quite the sensation at St. Ignatius! Marv felt self-conscious about all the attention, but Pete basked in it.

"I’m stopping by your classroom after school today, Marv, but not for explanations or to get tutored. You’ll be the student today! Get ready for your Latin lesson, ‘Sancta María, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatóribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostræ.’ I want you in front of the chapel, leading us in the rosary!" exclaimed Pete.

"Amen, so be it," whispered Marv, feeling choked up about all the transitions that had taken place at the school and in their lives.

They were truly at the dawn of a new golden age at St. Ignatius.

---