‘Outdated, punishing rules’ – Mom fights for son, 8, to keep his long hair despite schools rejecting him

Despite the fact that we all have mixed memories of school, we can all relate to the rules. This is a tumultuous moment of highs and lows.

While some rules, like the one against wearing jewelry to athletic events, make sense, it seems unnecessary to send someone home because they brought a certain soda or because they are wearing too much makeup. It also misses teaching opportunities for the kids involved.

The strict dress codes enforced by schools often clash with the times in children’s lives when they want to be different and express who they are.

For one mother and her child, these rules might have been excessive, and they might have kept an 8-year-old boy from getting an excellent education.

Farouk James of London, England, attracts the attention of model scouts due to his amazing hairstyle. He is currently working as a child model and has completed photo shoots in Italy and New York.

But his appearance has only made things difficult for him in the classroom; multiple institutions have rejected him due to the length of his hair.

Bonnie Miller, James’s mother, says she was told when her older brother was in school that his hair was too short.

Bonnie claims that Farouk’s father is from Ghana and that, in accordance with traditional traditions, his parents waited until he was three years old to cut his hair.

THE FUTURE OF FASHION: FAROUK JAMES — @JustChambers

“At that point, he was attached— and so was I, to be honest— with his beautiful hair,” Bonnie stated to CBS News. “We kept the hair only.”

The family lives in the UK, where most schools have a policy against guys wearing long hair, even if girls are allowed to.

Bonnie claims that cutting a child’s hair violates their human rights.

“I will not give up trying to persuade governments to put legislation in place to protect children from these outdated, punishing rules,” his mother Bonnie wrote in an Instagram post.

“Despite the fact that Farok has done nothing wrong, you reject him! He will have to say farewell to his buddies when they are all accepted into the universities he so desperately wants to attend.

Because of this, Bonnie even started a Change.org petition to make hair discrimination illegal in the UK.

“We’re assembling a real team and dubbed it the Mane Generation,” Bonnie said. “We are going to fight this until these rules are changed. It also spreads over the entire world, not only the United Kingdom.

Farouk’s mother has an Instagram account that boasts over a quarter of a million followers, showcasing his lively nature and role as a child model.

They still get hate mail, though, despite all the love and support he gets online. Bonnie stated she received a lot of negative comments after discussing the family’s search for a school that will welcome Farouk and his hair on the well-known U.K. TV morning show “This Morning.”

“This is mental health week, so I’m surprised to be receiving lots of negative comments about Farouk’s hair,” Bonnie said in May of last year.

“Farouk refuses to cut his hair to appease people; it is a God-given feature of him, and he does not keep it long at my request.”

Bonnie argues that the clothing regulations for boys and girls in schools are outdated and often discriminatory because many schools prohibit braids and dreadlocks.

The mother vows that she will never give up on gaining acceptance for Farouk, his hair, and all the other children who encounter discrimination because they want to display their cultural heritage and identity.

In 2022, it will not be acceptable for people in charge of our children’s education to turn away a student because of the color of their hair. Farouk’s hair is an essential component of who he is. These rules should be prohibited.

I Invited My Colleague to Secretly Introduce Her to My Single Grandson – My Heart Stopped as They Saw Each Other

Elsie just wants Josh, her grandson, to meet someone with whom he can consider settling down. When a young new teacher enrolls at her kindergarten, she thinks that she has hit the jackpot. But when Josh meets Allison, Elsie learns that they already have a connection.

I’m a meddling grandmother. Not in a bad way — I just want my grandson Josh to move along with his life. He’s 27 and spends most of his time at work or gaming.

During weekends, he stays at home, working on something around the house, or gaming.

“You need to get out more, Josh,” I said. “I want you to live your life to the fullest! Don’t you want to meet someone?”

“I get it, Gran,” he would say, pausing his game. “But I’m just not interested in that at the moment. Work is taking up all my time and energy, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“You’re not getting any younger,” I said, handing him chips to snack on.

“It’s because you’re surrounded by kids all day, so you just want great-grandchildren,” he laughed.

Josh wasn’t wrong. I was a kindergarten teacher, and I loved every moment of it. But I was done with the life of raising children away from their homes. Now, at 70, I wanted a quiet life of knitting and baking — a soft life, as Josh put it.

I’m leaving my position at the school at the end of the year. And maybe it’s just maternal instinct, but I wanted to know that Josh would be okay and not so alone.

A few months ago, we welcomed a new teacher at the kindergarten, Allison.

She was a few years younger than Josh, and I loved having her around during the day. So, of course, I thought about setting her up with him.

But I knew my grandson — Josh would never agree to an arranged date. He probably wouldn’t even show up.

The next best thing was to invite Allison over for dinner, where Josh would be forced to meet her.

“Alli,” I said to her one day during school. “Would you like to come over for dinner?”

“Yes! Of course, I would, Mrs. Barnard,” she said. “Since moving here, I’ve really missed family dinners. This will be great.”

I arranged for Allison to come over for dinner on a Friday evening. She went on and on about coming early to help with the cooking or bringing things over.

“Please just let me help, Mrs. Barnard,” she pleaded, as she helped me put the toys away one afternoon.

“You can bring dessert,” I told her. “And call me Elsie.”

I loved her.

And I knew that she would complement Josh well.

But nothing on earth could have prepared me for the connection between Josh and Allison.

That evening, as I was setting the table, Josh walked in.

“What’s this about?” he asked, nodding to the table.

“We’re having a new teacher over for dinner, okay?” I said, putting the cutlery in place.

“Sure, do you need me to help you?” he asked.

Allison arrived, her presence a breath of fresh air, carrying a cake with her.

She hugged me at the door and made herself at home — while Josh was still in his bedroom.

And then, the entire evening was turned upside down.

“Allison?” Josh’s voice came from the doorway, a mix of disbelief and an inexplicable hint of recognition.

“Josh?” Allison answered, her eyes wide. “Mrs. Barnard, this is your grandson? Josh?”

Confusion wrapped the room like a thick fog.

“Wait, you two know each other?” I asked, my heart racing at the possibilities of their connection.

“Yeah, Gran,” Josh said, sitting down.

“How?” I pressed on. We were past the niceties; I needed to know more.

“Allison is my sister,” he declared, each word resonating with the weight of a thousand unspoken stories.

The room fell silent.

“Explain, please,” I told Josh.

Josh isn’t my biological grandson. In fact, I had spent years of my life wanting a child, but I struggled with personal relationships. So, when I was 48, I took the plunge and went to an orphanage.

That’s where I met Josh. He was 5 years old and was a survivor of an accident in which his parents had died.

“Elsie,” Mandy, the social worker, said. “He’s a great kid! He’s curious, charming, and polite as ever. He just needs a chance to get out of here and live.”

When I met him, he was a scared little boy who had lost the most important people to him.

“What about the rest of his family?” I asked. “Wouldn’t they come looking?”

“There isn’t anyone else,” Mandy said. “We’ve searched. Which is why he had to be separated from his sister, too. She was adopted three weeks ago.”

“And the family didn’t want to take Josh?” I asked.

“Sadly, no,” Mandy admitted. “They just wanted the youngest child we had, so that they could have as much of her childhood as possible.”

In the end, despite my asking for more information about Josh’s sister, there was just no way such confidential information could be given out.

I adopted Josh as his grandmother because I was already going gray, and I didn’t want anyone to ask him why his mother was so old.

Eventually, on his 15th birthday, I told him the truth about the adoption — but nothing about his sister because I just didn’t have the information.

So, Josh has known the truth — or as much of the truth as possible.

“Tell me,” I pressed on.

“Gran, after you told me the truth about me being adopted, I felt settled. I mean, you had chosen me, after all. But I just felt that there was more to the story, you know?”

I nodded. I didn’t want to interrupt him. But I would choose this boy every single time.

“So, a few months ago, I went back to the orphanage, and I was told about a sister — Allison. And they were able to give me information because we were biological siblings.”

“And then, Josh found me on Facebook,” Allison chimed in. “We’ve been talking for a while. Although, he didn’t tell me the truth at first.”

“Well, I didn’t know if you knew the truth or not,” Josh retorted. “I couldn’t just say that I found your details in an old file at an orphanage.”

“I didn’t think that our first meeting would happen here, in your home,” Allison said.

“I think we need some dinner,” I said, waking up to get the food.

As we sat down at the table, I silently observed Josh and Allison’s reunion. I had absolutely no idea that there was a possibility that they could have known each other, let alone be siblings.

Josh ate quietly, processing his thoughts while he chewed. Allison’s eyes were glazed over — I wondered what she was thinking, and whether she was okay.

“Gran, why did you invite Allison over?” Josh asked, pouring more wine.

“Because I wanted to play matchmaker,” I said honestly.

Allison started giggling, and soon the room echoed with laughter.

The sense of awkwardness that had initially overwhelmed me transformed into a profound joy — I had hoped to bring love into Josh’s life, never imagining it would come in the form of a sister’s bond long severed by fate.

But their roles in each other’s lives were restored.

Later, when Allison took it upon herself to do the dishes, Josh and I stood outside.

“I can’t believe this,” Josh whispered, his voice cracking with emotion as he turned to me.

“I’m as surprised as you are,” I said, looking at the night sky.

“You’ve given me so much,” he said. “And now, you’ve unknowingly brought Allison back. We’ve been talking, but neither of us had the courage to actually meet.”

The rest of the night unfolded with stories of childhood memories lost and found, of heartaches and hope, and the unshakeable bond of family.

As I lay in bed that night, the house quiet once more, I couldn’t help but feel that their meeting was predestined by some other force.

At least now, Allison will be in Josh’s life, in some capacity or another.

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