My mother constantly tells me I needed to learn to choose my battles, and usually I ignore the words. I am an avid believer in spite.

As a traveling student I’ve encountered some- what I would like to call “double standards.” Hats can be worn at LHS but not LNHS. Here’s the battle. I have bad hair days. These days my hair looks more like a mix of Jimmy Neutron and Goku than the intended GQ chic, thus hats are a must. There is no other option.

My security hat covers my uncombed, unkempt and unstyled hair. It keeps it safe and hidden all day long. Until, that is, when I have to walk into the halls of LNHS where a fierce, blue-eyed hall monitor is waiting for me.

In my mind, the moment the woman told me to remove the hat was an act of war, an invasion of my home turf. I will admit that I am proud, and take great pride in my appearance and this newfound rule was unbearable and the words she used were deplorable.

On three separate occasions the hall monitor has followed me to my class to command me to remove my hat. Each time, I knew I must surrender, but once she told me, “I know at Liberty you can do whatever you want, but here we don’t wear hats.”

Then it was personal. She had crossed the line. I began to plot. And instantly I had a plan. I would shave a large circle into the front of my hair then wear the hat the following day! She’d see me proudly sporting my Baldwin hat and in her fury she would rip the hat off my head. I could imagine the look in her eyes. The fear! I would only say the words, “I have chronic alopecia…” Leaving her traumatized. She’d be morally distraught at herself; she’d blame her parents for their mistakes. She’d stare at the ceiling instead of sleeping. I would lose my hair, but the battle would have been won. It was nothing more than collateral damage.

However, a calm and collected teacher gave me refuge, telling me I could wear my hat in her classroom and provided insight. I needed to calm down. Maybe I need to choose my battles. I could manage the walk through the hallway with my wild hair exposed, but honestly I would look terrible with a baldhead.

I told my mother my plan and she repeated her words of wisdom. This time it got through to me. Though she was fierce and strict the hall monitor was doing her job, which I respect. I realized if I declared war very time I disagree with an outlandish rule (there I said it) I would spend a majority of my life as an angry, spiteful bald-guy.