Autumn: The Season of....Haircuts?
Technically, autumn is winding down in Uryu. Most of the local plant life with detachable leaves is bare, ice is starting to feather its way in broad calligraphy sweeps across the pond in the school courtyard, and the grass is frosted in the mornings. There are a few splashes of orange foliage left on the mountains, but they seem to be rapidly flagging out. And I no longer leave the house without wearing two pairs of socks, or one pair and my long johns.
There seems to be a peculiar tradition hereabouts, for seeing off the autumn. In the last two weeks, at least a dozen people I work with regularly (students and teachers alike) have gotten new haircuts.
I'm not sure if this is a coincidence, if this is a Hokkaido thing, if this is a Japanese thing, if this is a normal human thing that I never noticed in America because I'm an airhead, or what. It seems a little weird, seeing as how winter here is downright Arctic and you'd think people would want all the skull insulation they could get. But it's been a great ice-breaker with the shyer students and made for some very nice little hallway conversations in English, all of which run along the lines of:
"Oh, did you cut your hair?"
"Yes!"
"When did you get it done?"
"Nani?"
"When...did...you...cut...your...hair?"
"Douyoubi. Aaa...Sa...Saturday!"
"Oh, Saturday? It looks very nice."
"Thank you!" (Delivered with an expression of genuine delight.)
(Some of the kids can conduct this conversation totally in English; some resort entirely to Japanese. This is a pretty good average example.)
Unfortunately, in some cases I'm lying cheerfully through my teeth. None of the new haircuts really looks bad (the secretary at the elementary school just got a really classy wave put in with soft auburn highlights that looks downright smashing), but...well, about seven out of ten of my female students wear a variation on the same haircut, a sort of shaggy, layered round bob, like a buzz cut grown out three inches all over. Some girls wear The Haircut a few centimeters longer or shorter, some with block-cut or more trendily razor-cut ends, but the final result is that they all kinda look the same from the back.
Also, since the most popular haircut among the boys is the same thing, an inch shorter; and since all my students wear the same uniform most of the time, a loose-fitting navy blue tracksuit with racing stripes and the school name and their last name written over their heart; and since this is a Japanese school and the only acceptable hair color is black, the result is that about 70% of my students can only be told apart from behind by height and mannerism.
So I think you'll understand my inner anguish when the cutest little girl in my first-year class, who had once sported adorable shoulder-length pigtails, walked past me sporting The Haircut. The number of The Haircut casualties has increased with this autumn's ritual shearings, but hers is the most mourned for me. I told her, of course, that she looked wonderful--and she does, she's got a very sweet face and it makes her look like a pixie. But oh, sweetie, why? I loved those pigtails not just because they suited your bright, friendly personality and face to a tee, but because they made you look different from every other darn girl in this school--and now, they are gone, and you have joined the clone army. Sad, sad day.
(On the bright side, a few of my boys have shorn their hair shorter, making them more identifiable. Huzzah! This might be a good time to revive my campaign to learn ninety names...)
EDIT: Weeks later, Onodera-sensei cleared up the mystery. Yearbook photos are taken in autumn. :D
There seems to be a peculiar tradition hereabouts, for seeing off the autumn. In the last two weeks, at least a dozen people I work with regularly (students and teachers alike) have gotten new haircuts.
I'm not sure if this is a coincidence, if this is a Hokkaido thing, if this is a Japanese thing, if this is a normal human thing that I never noticed in America because I'm an airhead, or what. It seems a little weird, seeing as how winter here is downright Arctic and you'd think people would want all the skull insulation they could get. But it's been a great ice-breaker with the shyer students and made for some very nice little hallway conversations in English, all of which run along the lines of:
"Oh, did you cut your hair?"
"Yes!"
"When did you get it done?"
"Nani?"
"When...did...you...cut...your...hair?"
"Douyoubi. Aaa...Sa...Saturday!"
"Oh, Saturday? It looks very nice."
"Thank you!" (Delivered with an expression of genuine delight.)
(Some of the kids can conduct this conversation totally in English; some resort entirely to Japanese. This is a pretty good average example.)
Unfortunately, in some cases I'm lying cheerfully through my teeth. None of the new haircuts really looks bad (the secretary at the elementary school just got a really classy wave put in with soft auburn highlights that looks downright smashing), but...well, about seven out of ten of my female students wear a variation on the same haircut, a sort of shaggy, layered round bob, like a buzz cut grown out three inches all over. Some girls wear The Haircut a few centimeters longer or shorter, some with block-cut or more trendily razor-cut ends, but the final result is that they all kinda look the same from the back.
Also, since the most popular haircut among the boys is the same thing, an inch shorter; and since all my students wear the same uniform most of the time, a loose-fitting navy blue tracksuit with racing stripes and the school name and their last name written over their heart; and since this is a Japanese school and the only acceptable hair color is black, the result is that about 70% of my students can only be told apart from behind by height and mannerism.
So I think you'll understand my inner anguish when the cutest little girl in my first-year class, who had once sported adorable shoulder-length pigtails, walked past me sporting The Haircut. The number of The Haircut casualties has increased with this autumn's ritual shearings, but hers is the most mourned for me. I told her, of course, that she looked wonderful--and she does, she's got a very sweet face and it makes her look like a pixie. But oh, sweetie, why? I loved those pigtails not just because they suited your bright, friendly personality and face to a tee, but because they made you look different from every other darn girl in this school--and now, they are gone, and you have joined the clone army. Sad, sad day.
(On the bright side, a few of my boys have shorn their hair shorter, making them more identifiable. Huzzah! This might be a good time to revive my campaign to learn ninety names...)
EDIT: Weeks later, Onodera-sensei cleared up the mystery. Yearbook photos are taken in autumn. :D