Not exactly hair-raising

People keep commenting on my hair. Why? I haven't done anything special with it--in fact, I long ago decided to pretty much give up and let it do what it wants, which is mostly to hang in my eyes or stick out in random directions. And yet in the past couple of weeks random people have been making random comments about my random hair(s), all complimentary. Whatever it's doing, I guess it ought to go ahead and keep doing it.

Thinking about hair is more pleasant than thinking about other things, like war or refugees or gas prices or the campus budget crisis, but it makes me feel frivolous. I mean, don't I have something more important to write about than hair? Sure, but I'd rather not.

Yesterday someone complimented my hair (out of the blue!) while I was sitting on a bench out on the campus mall soaking in some sunshine after a very busy morning of teaching and preps. After the between-classes rush of students cleared up, it was just me and the birds overhead and the bulbs sending up greenery from bare brown patches--oh, and the groundskeeper across the way driving around a big loud messy piece of equipment poking holes in the turf. What was he doing to that scraggly-looking lawn? Aerating? I have no idea, but it was loud and annoying until he drove loudly away.

I was reminded of a class activity last week, when lovely weather inspired me to send my Place students outside in the middle of class. We'd been reading about urban nature, so I sent them out in pairs to examine specific spots where nature impinges on campus and report on how people interact with those places and what it takes to keep those natural spots healthy. They looked at trees and ornamental garden plots and a field and an unexpected patch of early spring flowers, and they concluded that all it takes to keep natural places healthy is a little work by the groundskeepers. Well yes, but those groundskeepers have to be hired and trained and paid, and someone has to order the right equipment and keep it running, and someone has to establish budget priorities so all those things can be paid for, which suggests a whole network of people and institutions have a hand in keeping that little patch of flowers blooming or that field mowed or that tree standing.

Last week at another awful meeting someone asked whether the budget crisis will prevent the kinds of plantings we're accustomed to seeing on campus in spring and summer, when our campus blooms from end to end. A person in the know said the planting budget can't be cut because campus beautification is a tool for attracting new students, which is a valid point. I would not want to minimize the importance of keeping campus beautiful, but I wish some people understood that excellent teaching is also a tool for attracting and retaining students and should therefore be protected.

I mean, if the students aren't coming here for the teaching, what are they here for? It's certainly not my hair.