Confessions of a Beauty School Graduate, Part Three
I hate “firsts.” First days of school, first days on the job, first dates, first time driving, first drink, first time ANYTHING. My life has been burdened, furthermore, with the gift of social awkwardness. The first day at the academy was mostly introductions. I was waiting outside the first classroom, encased in glass for all to see like bacteria on petri dishes. The instructor was quiet, maybe mouthed a small, “Hello,” while turning through her teaching plan. That is to say, if the academy had one. I sat closest to the door, that way I never had to struggle to wait behind a line of people before leaving. As the hour grew closer, more students started to sprinkle into the room. Surprisingly, the class was outweighed by guys. This was due to the academy’s barbering curriculum, and, at the time, there were no barbering schools within the state. A thin variety of beauty schools provided such extensive training. Usually, cosmetologists had to invest in that sort of thing on their own outside of school. Or, frankly, learn in the field.