Report card. by som

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Report card.
In 1975, I had hair that I considered trendy. It was long, with bangs covering the front of my face, and my hair falling far over my ears and reaching over my shoulders. I was proud of my beautiful, long hair. Not only boys but also girls envied me. My father was against my long hair, but my mother always stood up for me so that I wouldn't have to get a haircut. There were 16 boys in our class, most of them had fashionable long hairstyles, but there were still 4 who had short hair and went to old-fashioned barbershops. We were 13 years old and we thought the whole world belonged to us.
I finished the 7th grade in 1975 and my results at school had deteriorated a lot. My father promised me that if I didn't improve my grades, I would regret it a lot during the holidays.
My report card was disastrous. If I don't improve my grades on my final exams at the end of the summer break, I'll repeat the 7th grade.
On my way home from school, I decided to go to the old-fashioned Matthews barbershop and get my hair cut less than 10 centimeters. I've never been to an old-fashioned barbershop in my life. I went into the barbershop, said hello. The barber looked at me and asked my name, that he didn't know me and if I was here for a haircut. I replied Sir, my name is Alex and yes, I'm here for a haircut. He showed me to the waiting chairs to sit down.
An old gray-haired gentleman was sitting on the waiting chair and another man was about 30 years old. The barber was cutting a little boy, about 7 years old, who was sitting on a high wooden chair. He was facing away from the mirror. When he cut him, his haircut reminded me of my classmate Marko, who went to Matthews barbershop with his father for regular short haircuts. The boy's father paid and he and his son left the barbershop. An old gray-haired gentleman sat in the chair. As the barber cut his hair, he looked at me and asked Alex, how was your report card? Sir, very bad, that's why I came here before I went home. Then he asked me Does your father like your long hair? I replied Sir, he doesn't like it at all. He asked me a few more questions and I answered him politely. Before I knew it, the old gentleman was already paying for his haircut. The barber said Alex, come sit here. He added cushions to the old, red, leather chair. I sat down and he pumped the chair up a little higher. He tied a long white sheet around my neck. As he combed my hair, he asked me Alex, how would your father like it, a 1 or a 2? I thought 1 is an excellent grade and said of course 1. The barber smiled, turned the barber chair away from the mirror and I only saw the waiting chairs, on which other old guys were already sitting but two brothers from our school also came.
I had a request ready for my new haircut to shorten my hair by about 7 to 8 centimeters. But Mr. Matthews tilted my head back, I felt the cold teeth of the clipper on my forehead. When the machine started, my head shook as if he was giving me a massage. I felt the metal blades close to my skin. The barber passed over the top of my head several times, then turned my head to the side and continued cutting on the right side of my head and later on the left side. For a small moment I noticed the boys from our school laughing. When the barber tilted my head forward so that my chin was touching my chest, I saw on the sheet and on the floor my hair, which was more than 35 centimeters long. I pulled my hand out from under the sheet and placed it on the top of my head. I could only feel very short hair with horror. I could feel tears on the edge. I was ashamed to cry in front of the boys. My throat tightened, it was like in a vice. The barber cut the back of my head and more of my long, cropped hair grew on the sheet.
The barber removed my hair from the sheet with a soft brush, wet the sides of my head and the entire back of my head, made shaving foam in a bowl and applied it to the wet part of my head. Gradually, he removed the foam from the sides of my head and back of my head with a razor. He wiped my head with a towel and applied oil to the top of my head and smelly cologne to the back of my head and sides of my head. He turned the chair and I finally saw myself in the mirror. I had only 3 millimeters of stubble on the top of my head and the rest of my head was flawlessly shaved. The sides of the head were white and the ears were quite large.
I tilted my head forward and saw in the mirror an oval shape of 3 mm stubble. I jumped out of the barber's chair. As I paid Mr. Matthews, he asked me if my father would be happy with my new haircut. Yes, sir, he certainly would be. All the way home I regretted ever setting foot in Matthews' barbershop.

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