Making The Grade
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Making The Grade - Chapter 1 free porn video
Day one at the Institute of Style -- Greg arrived at the registration
office early to try to beat the rush. He had to pay some fees and confirm
his class assignments for the semester. After this four-month course --
actually two courses he was taking simultaneously -- Greg would be ready to
take his state licensing for cosmetology and hairdressing. That is,
provided he passed the courses.
But in his mind, succeeding with his studies was already a given. He walked
into the Institute Monday morning with a new sense of determination he
never had before.
Despite arriving at 8:30 a.m., Greg still had a substantial line to deal
with. Close to a hundred girls were probably standing in front of him and
maybe two or three guys. And there was something different about this
crowd. It was like 100 Hilary Duffs and Beyonces all gathered in the same
place, excited and chatting about the challenge ahead.
Greg overheard a couple of girls talking about an instructor they were
supposed to have who was taking leave from school instead. Turned out she
was pregnant and didn't want to chance the exposure she might have to
chemicals used in styling hair. Greg's eyes widened when he heard the
teacher's name, Ms. Martinez. She was not only supposed to teach his
hairdressing course, but also serve as his advisor. He had met her once and
thought she was pretty cool in general, especially when it came to
understanding his career choice and long-term goals.
"Excuse me. Did you say Ms. Martinez won't be teaching this semester?" Greg
asked the girls.
"Yeah, that's right. Bummer, too. I guess they've got some battle axe to
replace her. Are you studying hair styling?" one of the girls asked once
she realized she was talking to a guy.
"Uh, yeah. My name's Greg. What's yours?"
"I'm Tisha. This is Parker. We went to high school together. What brings
you to beauty school?"
"I want to run a salon someday. Maybe a spa as well," Greg tried to respond
confidently.
He didn't do badly. The girls seemed satisfied with his explaination.
"Just seem a little butch for this crowd," Parker piped in, trying to break
the ice.
"Well, I guess we'll be seeing you in class," Tisha told Greg.
With that, everyone turned their attention to the line progressing to the
admissions windows and went on about their business.
At 10:00, students were to gather in the large lecture hall for an
orientation session, then a quick tour of the facilities. For a vocational
school, the Institute of Style was pretty well established, having been
around since the mid 1980s. It occupied the space of what used to be a very
large grocery store, with administrative offices in the front of the
building, and a series of classrooms and hands-on instructional facilities
spread throughout the rest of the building. It was generally considered one
of the best options for such study in the Chicagoland area.
Once Greg and everyone else finished their orientation, they headed on
their own merry ways. The timing was just right for Greg, who had his first
class at 11:00. And sure enough, there were Tisha and Parker walking in the
room where he was. He sat about mid-way toward the back of the six rows of
six chairs each. Parker and Tisha took seats just in front of Greg, towards
the end of the room where the door was. As the clock approached 11, the
room gradually filled, with about 10 chairs still empty. The maximum number
of students in a class was supposed to be limited to 30. This was a lab
section, meeting Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, with combined lectures on
Tuesdays and Thursdays in the room where they had just had the orientation
address. The lecture would have about 90 students, combining three lab
classes.
Just as the hands of the institutional style clock reached 11, in walked a
woman bearing a striking resemblence to the actress Blythe Danner. Mid 50s,
greying blonde hair, build on the thin side. But this woman didn't seem
quite as pleasant. She looked as if she wasn't especially happy about being
there. Well, the students would find out in a minute.
"My name is Miss Marlow. I'll be your instructor for professional hair
design. If you haven't heard, Ms. Martinez won't be teaching this year. So
I'm filling in. The syllabus now coming around the room is pretty self
explanatory regarding assignments, policies and other expectations.
Basically, there are no excuses, no makeups, no b.s. You ladies are adults
now. You have to deal with the real world and adult rules. Women have to be
ready for the real world. And you won't be leaving here as a professional
hair designer if you are not ready. Understood, ladies?"
Greg sort of resigned himself to the fact that he was by far a minority in
the class. He assumed Miss Marlow had not spotted him yet. He was the only
male student in the class of 27. He felt slightly self-conscious about it
after the teacher's address, but it really didn't bother him.
"I assume you have all had some personal experience with hair care, of
course," Miss Marlow said as she scanned the room.
She then picked up her monologue just as she looked at Greg, stopping her
scan and looking straight at him as if she were looking right through him.
"Well, girls. Throw whatever you know out the window. You are going to re-
learn how to care for your own hair and your lab parters' in the process of
learning the skills you need to become professional hairdressers. I am not
only a strong believer in the hands-on approach with our models and clients
who come here for styling, I also feel you will do your best when your
friendships and your own appearance depend on it. Before you begin to
handle clients who come here for the cheap hair care, you will be making
your mistakes on each other. But in the end, I am sure you will all look
very pretty."
That left Greg a little uncomfortable, not knowing how he would address
this with his teacher. He figured he would go up and talk to her after
class. At the same time Greg was shifting in his seat, Parker and Tisha
turned around in theirs, raising their eyebrows and smiling at their
acquaintance.
"Now, ladies. We have 27 of you. I will need you to divide up into groups
of three. That way, if one of your lab partners is absent or drops out,"
she said while looking at Greg, "you will have a backup to keep your
studies going. I'll let you sort out your groups among yourselves. I'm
passing around a signup sheet. If at the end of the class, someone does not
have parters, I will assign the remaining groups."
Tisha and Parker immediately turned to Greg again. They were eager to see
what would happen if they had a male partner. Pointing back and forth to
themselves and to Greg, they signalled their interest in forming a trio.
With little other prospect and no reason to reject the idea, Greg shrugged
and nodded yes. So Parker signed up the three of them after asking Greg his
last name.
"Monroe," he whispered.
The rest of the class, Miss Marlow ran through the list of supplies the
student would need, and what would be supplied by the school. While running
down the list, she explained what everything was for and demonstrated how
it was used. She also ran through a list of chemicals they would be using,
talked about safety and what to do in case of spills or splashed, what
items should not be mixed, and pointed out the eyewash station.
"You will each receive your own smock. But you might also want to keep a
change of clothes here as school in case you get all wet or get something
spilled on what you are wearing. We do have lockers I will assign."
Miss Marlow then pointed to a stack of boxes along the wall that each
student was supposed to take one of. Each contained supplies including some
empty spray bottles, some chemicals, a hand-held mirror, a professional set
of scissors and curlers, a numbered key for a locker and a large pink smock
among many other things.
The lab area along a mirrored wall at the far end of the room had hand-held
hair dryers and curling irons handing from the ceiling on elastic cords
near a group of barber chairs. A row of hair dryers to sit under also
stretched along the back wall.
The class began to look at their watches as 2:00 approached. Today's class
began at 11 due to orientation. But it would be regularly scheduled from 10
until 2 for the rest of the course.
"Ladies, you are dismissed," Miss Marlow announced at 2 p.m. on the dot. As
the class started to clear, Greg began to rush to the front as he saw the
teacher preparing to quickly leave.
"Miss Marlow?" Greg said as she picked up her satchel. "I have a couple
questions if you have a moment."
"Ok. Go ahead."
"Um, I'm just wondering how the practice on your lab partners is going to
work for me."
"Well, your hair is a little short. It barely covers your neck or reaches
your shoulders. But they should be able to do something with it. But don't
get it cut anytime soon."
"Uhh..."
"And once we learn hair extensions, you should be a prime example. Maybe
I'll use you to show the rest of the class how to do it."
"But, Miss Marlow..."
"Listen, you aren't going to get any favors from me. You are choosing this
course. You are free to drop it. Men have their run of the rest of the
world, then come into this business and want special treatment. Uh-uh. Not
here. You will follow the same guidelines as everyone else or I will fail
you. Plain and simple."
"Uh, ok," Greg said with resignation.
This really let the wind out of the sails he rode into school on this
morning. Amazing how he felt his whole future turn from promising to
pessimistic in a matter of a couple of hours. He walked out of the room and
out of the building to a McDonalds a few doors away for lunch.
When he got there, he ran into Tisha and Parker again. He saw them sitting
by the window and waved. They motioned for him to come over after he got
his order. When he did, he took his tray over to their table and plopped
down to eat. They knew the teacher's tone must have gotten to him.
"So, what are you going to do?" Parker asked Greg. "Did you talk to Miss
Marlow?"
"Yeah. She said basically no exceptions. Either I do what everybody else
does, or I am out."
"You're not going to drop out, are you?" Tisha asked, encouraging him to
stay enrolled.
"Well, I'm also enrolled in cosmetology. I've got that from 3-to-5. I'm
going to see how that's going to go."
"Really? We do, too!" Tisha said with excitement. "Which section are you
in?"
"Let me look," he said, rifling through his schedule. "Section 2," he said,
followed by a pause.
"Oh, no!" Greg said in disbelief.
"What? We've got section 2 as well," said Parker.
"The instructor for section 2 is listed as Marlow."
Latisha
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