About a week ago, I recently tested out of the first "grade" of beauty school and "graduated" into what we call "Phase 2" (it sounds like an evil plan, and in most ways it is). Rather than being mostly classroom based, my class now is usually just our teacher shouting out instructions on something we learned the theory of a few weeks ago.
Allow me to give some background on my teacher: Mario. Mario is one of our admissions counselor's selling points. This man is, to the teachers at the school, gifted. He truly is rather talented. Watching him work on someone is fascinating, he does it all so well. The way he teaches explains it all so well, I rarely ever have a question.
Here's the kicker: he's a thirty-year old who has the heart and mind of a a sixteen-year old boy. He flirts with every female student, knows everything I thought you could only have an x chromosome to understand.
Today in class, our first assignment was suprisingly to write a page and a half paper on why we want to be stylists. I was the second to last to read my report, and was glad I was close to last. Nearly every other person had mentioned how they were expecting a large amount of money, or reputation to go with it.
In mine, I mentioned the history of my sister attending cosmo school while I was young, and how it was so cool to get to go in and be her voluntary model (actually, I don't ever remember anyone asking....). She's the only one who's touched my hair with shears for as long as I could remember (besides one, and there's a reason why I don't go back) and throughout all those haircuts, I was mesmorized by her ability to completely transform people.
As we were wrapping up, Dani, the nostalgic one, asked Mario why he became a hair stylist. We were expecting the one word answer (that made the most sense): Girls.
Much to our surprise, Mario related to us an inspiring and beautiful story about his past, and his reasoning for his schooling.
He told us about how he could treat women nicely or badly, and how in high school he picked he latter. He told us about how he became a jerk when he was a sherriff. He told us about how he went to school, and after making a ton of money in salons, let it go to his head. I could almost hear the lump in his throat as he described his turning point, redeeming himself by giving away his expensive and worldly possessions to work as a humble school instructor at merely $15 an hour.
The clincher was my favorite part, "This is the only profession you can physically touch someone, their hair, their hands, their shoulders, and have the chance to touch them spiritually. We aren't hair dressers, we're day-makers. Think of the times you had a bad colour job, or a lousy day and got your hair done: it ALWAYS makes you feel better."
I won't lie, I got kinda teary-eyed. But then again, I'm a total girl so that's not news.
It's days like these that remind me just how awesome the people I'm learning beside truly are.
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