麻豆原创

I recently took a ride on the new SunRail. I was among the throng onboard for a free ride and to see, as Dr. Seuss would say, 鈥淥h, the places I could go.鈥� When I entered the overstuffed car, a young woman immediately stood up and said to me, 鈥淗ere, Momma, take my seat.鈥� And I did. I thanked her and commented about the kindness of her gesture.

We chatted for a couple of stops and then she got off of the train. As soon as the doors closed and the train took off, the woman who was sitting directly in front of me said, 鈥淒id you see the color of her hair?鈥� I did; it was blue. I pretended not to hear my fellow rider. She asked again and this time she tapped my foot with her cane and spoke in a slightly raised voice, 鈥淒id you see the color of her hair?鈥� I did; it was blue.

Not getting a response from me a second time, she said to the woman sitting next to her, 鈥淪he must be deaf.鈥�

I responded, 鈥淚鈥檓 not and I did; it was blue.鈥�

鈥淲ell, what color is that for hair? It鈥檚 not natural.鈥�

鈥淚 imagine,鈥� I said, 鈥渢hat young woman selected a hair color she liked. Perhaps she chose a color that made her feel good, adventurous, rebellious, artsy, young鈥�who knows. It was her choice.鈥�

鈥淲ould you let your daughter color her hair blue?鈥�

鈥淢aybe,鈥� I said, as I gave the bottle blonde who appeared to be in her 80s an appraising look.

鈥淲ell, I wouldn鈥檛. That鈥檚 what鈥檚 wrong with young people today.鈥�

And so it began. I listened to the woman and the one next to her talk about the woes of the world caused by young people. According to her, young people are slovenly, unpatriotic, uncouth, unkempt, not as smart as young people in her time, and many of them look weird.

I did my best to tune out the conversation, but I could not dismiss the prejudice of her words. Nor could I dismiss the thoughts of myself 40 years ago when I was about the same age as the young woman with the blue hair.

While my hair was not blue, my eye shadow was. Peacock blue was my favorite color. My lips were always colored a vibrant red with Revlon No. 440鈥擟herries in the Snow (which had replaced the white lipstick I had used prior). I guess you could say I looked weird. I wore micro-miniskirts, platform shoes (or go-go boots) and psychedelic shirts. When I looked in the mirror, it said I looked hot鈥攏ot weird.

But I have to admit, now when I look at some of the television shows and movies from the 60s and 70s, what we called 鈥渉igh fashion鈥� then just looks weird now. I often have laugh-out-loud moments when I look at old pictures of myself. I dare say that if my fellow train passenger would look back on herself 40, 50 or 60 years ago, she might have a laugh-out-loud moment, too.

Possibly 50 or 60 years ago she may have known a blue-haired woman. It may have been her grandmother. Older women in that era often had their beauticians use blue, green or pink ROUX Fanci-ful Hair Color Rinse. My grandma did; her hair was sometimes blue, but most often green.

As I tried to tune out the women鈥檚 conversation, I also could not dismiss the thoughts of myself 20+ years ago when I was a high school teacher. I鈥檒l never forget the first four students who walked into my classroom on the first day of school one year.

The first one was dressed from head to toe in black, including a black dress, black lipstick, eye shadow and nail polish; and I could not tell if the student was a he or a she. He taught me all about the 鈥済oth鈥� movement and the need for self-expression. I guess one could say he looked weird.

The second one was dressed in a kilt, complete with a sporran and a sgian-dubh (a traditional knife that was confiscated posthaste by the school dean). He fancied himself as a follower of Duncan MacLeod, a fictional character from the television show 鈥淗ighlander.鈥� This student was creative and had a brilliant mind. I guess one could say he looked weird.

The third student was dressed like 鈥淩oboCop.鈥� He never ceased to amaze me. Every week he would come in dressed in some getup that he had assembled as a conversation starter. His outfits included a full cavalry uniform, Bip the Clown (made famous by French mime Marcel Marceau), and Pee-wee Herman. He was an extrovert with a capital E. He once told me that if people would talk, we could solve all of our problems. I guess one could say he looked weird.

The fourth student had spiked hair and an earring that was attached by a long chain to a nose ring. Midway through the year he wanted to play varsity basketball but needed to get rid of the spikes. He had to shave his head because he had rolled the spikes in Super Glue. He graduated with honors and went on to medical school. I guess one could say he looked weird.

After student four walked in that first day, I went into my closet to pray. I asked God to help me look past the exteriors, to help me not to look through the glass darkly. Instead, I wanted to see the interiors, the eager students waiting to learn.

I thought about sharing these memories with my train mates. I thought better of it. This chance encounter on a train was an opportunity to listen and to reflect. Through the years I have had many conversations with folks who say they 鈥渏ust don鈥檛 understand young people.鈥� Sadly, I think they have forgotten at one time they were young. I don鈥檛 agree with George Bernard Shaw who said: 鈥淵outh is wasted on the young.鈥� Without the young, we do not have the old. We need both, that鈥檚 the beauty of the yin and yang of the human experience.

I have spent 40 years working with young people with a variety of hair colors: blue, green, pink, purple, rainbow. Some of them have been mine!

If I鈥檓 honest, before those four students walked into my life, I thought like the woman on the train. My micro-miniskirts and go-go boots had given way to pencil skirts, cardigan sweaters and high-heeled shoes. And my sense of freedom and adventure had been lost somewhere in the mix.

But that year, those four taught me a lot about daring to look weird, to think weird and to just be.

I was both the teacher and the student, and I am forever better for the experience.

Rebekah McCloud is director of the 麻豆原创鈥檚 PRIME STEM/Student Support Services Program. She can be reached at Rebekah.McCloud@ucf.edu.

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