My students are laughing at me. Again. That’s fair. I’m 60. I get it. Not supposed to be cool. I remember when I was a middle schooler, Miss Wexter, that old hippy, would tape toilet paper over the VHS where the subtitles were, because she didn’t know how to remove them. We were watching Sound of Music, her favourite, for the fifth time. We’d sit smiling at our crotches, at the Nokia phones we were making half-hearted attempts at hiding, their black-and-white screens flashing expensive, purposeless text messages. When my best friend Anne would make a snorting laugh in the middle of Edelweiss, Wexler would pull the plug out of the TV and rage. She’d yell at us ungrateful children that we would snap out of this phase, that mobile phones were just the new pokemon cards, except for the fact that these new toys were cancer-inducing. If anything important ever was to be said, it would be done so on a stationary phone, a letter, or face-to-face. Poor Miss Wexler. I wonder what happened to her, if she had the energy to rage against machines until her death. Perhaps that’s what these kids think about me. I try to hide my phone addiction from them, typing at the screen under my desk. I don’t even bother to bring my Tabtop to school anymore. It’s like they have an allergy to screens, or anything from the past. The only thing worthy of their written text is 100 percent organic, ethically sourced papyrus. Their favourites are the beet-died and herbal-infused. This trend started about 10 years ago, when more and more students started complaining about the white A4 of my time gave them headaches, and parents chipping in that their white blank shininess was almost the equivalent to, god forbid, screens! 

Today I am teaching a social studies class on the covid pandemic. This is the reason that they are laughing. I have dressed up as if it’s 2020. At least the laughter relieved some of the tension that first arose when the students walked in this morning. Seeing the tech devices I had hunted down, my old non-working Iphone and an equally dead MacBook which I borrowed from the library’s archives, they shuddered and hurried to their desks. No one, save for Cardamom, accepted my invitation to come up to the desk and touch them. For this special day, I was also wearing a wig, to hide my purple hair underneath. Back in the day, my hair was earth tone, or as you said then- natural. 

“Why was everyone’s hair so boring and unhealthy-looking back then?” asks Castor, hair currently black with red polka dots. 

“Well, people just liked it that way.”

“Did they only wear earth tone clothes too? Did they HAVE colour back then?”, asks Elf. 

Whether they are mocking me on purpose or just are blissfully ignorant, they are sure as hell annoying me. I take the wig off and decide to skip to the meat of the lesson. 

“Technology”, I say, letting the word linger in the air for a second, allowing for impact. “Has been a controversial topic ever since the pandemic ended in 2025.”

I turn to the large papyrus cloth that covers the whole wall behind me and get out my quill. I scribble ‘The Natural Revolution’ in large letters, and ask them what they know about it. Cardamom’s hand is as usual the first to go up.

“The Natural Revolution started in 2026. They discovered that 5G networks were making everyone sick and caused the pandemic. Also, the evil tech giants were wanting to much control, so the people took power back and threw out their technology.”

“Thank you, Cardamom”, I said. “I just want to point out, that some political parties believed 5G networks were behind covid, however, it has never been proven. Also, I know you’re a smart bunch, but just to clarify, since I’ve had to in the past, the tech giants weren’t actual, like, proper fairy tale giants…”

To my relief, the class laughs. So they’re not THAT ill informed, at least. 

Leopard puts his hand up and says:

“Once I went to this country, I don’t remember what it’s called, that has electricity and my head really hurt and I got skin rashes.”

“That happens to me when my mum doesn’t dye my hair with dandelion and lilac essence”, Castor chipped in. 

Their hairs are all coloured with natural dies. The trend started when I was in my early forties. It had begun in extreme naturals circles, where they believed the dye and essences sent nourishment back into your roots, your scalp, and then into your brain. Bullshit, if you ask me, which I still believe to this day. But you don’t want to be the only earth toned head on the continent. So I gave in, and have stuck with purple over the last decade. Around the same time, they made tie-dye unisex dresses mandatory for all government-funded staff. There, I didn’t have a choice. Miss Wexter might actually have liked this era more than me.

At night I take the pedal bus home. I’m lucky to get a back spot on the 30 person tandem, so no one sits behind me and can tell that I’m not pedalling. I’m 60. I’m tired. 30 years until retirement suddenly seems like a long time.Â