When I was in fifth grade I was one of the first girls in my class to get a ‘big girl hair cut’. I chopped off my waist-long hair, got layers and (and this was the eighties, mind) got a perm. I shed my ‘girl’ look entered my pre-teen years. I felt mature and — sassy– flicking my curls all around.

One of the delights of teaching middle school is watching this transformation in my young, female students. In sixth grade most come in with long locks that serve little more than putting in different ponytails, braids, and perhaps try out different bands and barrettes. But for the most part the hair is forgotten, scrunched up and forgotten as soon as the morning brushing is over.

Then the day when one girl comes in with short hair. Comments by fellow students and teachers help them with that feeling like they’ve transitioned, passes a sort of benchmark in their lives. Soon each new week brings a new bob, though just as my perm was the style of the 80s, bangs are the fashion of today, the way to say ‘I’m not a kid’ anymore.

Part of me is sad. Once you have hair you style or think about, you’ve taken a step down a road of overpriced products, too much time in the bathroom in the morning, and suddenly looking at yourself and determining if you are ‘pretty’ or not. But I know that in those days after ‘the cut’ – it’s wonderfully exhilarating and freeing.