The Return of Mr. Dennis Mustache

As some of you may recall from earlier this year, my twin brother "Mr. Dennis Mustache" visited my first grade class for a week back in January. The real Mr. Dennis was "staying home sick" in Pennsylvania while Mr. Dennis Mustache came down to watch after the kids for a week. He was allegedly more strict with the rules, but really not that much different from Mr. Dennis. After just one short week, he went back to his ambiguous (yet demanding) job in Pennsylvania, while I came back to resume my role as primary deceiver of the innocents.

Well, since that time, the existence of Mr. Dennis Mustache has been a highly controversial event. Several children have asked about him, some of the kids get mad at the other ones for even mentioning his existence, some fervently believe in him and as me to tell him things for them, and at least two of my kids have launched "Mr. Dennis Mustache does not exist" campaigns. One of my girls, Gricelda, points out my stubble whenever I go more than a few days without shaving -- "Look! He's growing a mustache!He's Mr. Dennis and Mr. Dennis Mustache -- they're the same person!" There have been many requests for his return, preferably with both of us in the same room at once.

Well, in mid-March, our grade school had a one week Spring Break, and upon returning to the class-room, the kids found themselves face-to-face with Mr. Dennis Mustache once again. This round, Mr. Dennis Mustache came prepared. Sick of accusations that he and I were the same person, he made sure to wear different shoes than Mr. Dennis, dress slightly classier than his twin, and even had his own name tag, all of which were points of contention in January.

Upon arriving in the cafeteria to find this much maligned maestro, chaos broke out. Believers were ecstatic to have him back while many of the lukewarm masses were instantly polarized. Former non-believers converted based on the popular "name-tag hypothesis," while Gricelda stood on top of her chair and began chanting "MISS-TER DEN-NIS! MISS-TER DEN-NIS! YOU'RE MISTER DENNIS! MISS-TER DEN-NIS..."

The chant began to spread across the tables, and Mr. Dennis Mustache feared the loss of his identity forever. Sooner than he thought he would need to, the shaggy-haired instructor reached into his bag for his silver bullet -- the photo of Mr. Dennis "currently" vacationing in Guatemala with, the kicker - short hair.

A gasp rippled across the tables as even Gricelda fell silent. One girl held the picture and just stared at it, mouth open, as she pointed back and forth between the Mr. Dennis in the picture and his twin staring her in the face. Within minutes, kids were correcting each other -- when one would say "Mr. Dennis," another would finish it with "..mustache. It's Mr. Dennis Mustache, remember?"

Mr. Dennis Mustache's second stay was as long as his first, one week, and the students took the transition pretty well. They showed him to the classroom we switched to last month and filled him in on any rule changes since January. On the second day, one girl pointed to his shoes and yelled in Spanish "Look! Different shoes! He IS the brother!!" Unfortunately, Mr. Dennis Mustache doesn't speak much Spanish, so he didn't quite understand that. He also didn't understand it when that same delighted girl ran around all week yelling "He doesn't speak Spanish! He doesn't speak Spanish! This little boy can't even speak Spanish!"

As the week pressed on, some of the students began to lose their faith. Pedro and Gricelda continued to campaign against the twin theory in the face of first-grade logic, and they even managed to defect a few others. On Wednesday, a pivotal day on the campaign trail, Mr. Dennis Mustache had his existence further validated by a letter from his brother:

This pretty much sealed it. The doubters were silenced from Wednesday until Friday, with the exception of Pedro. On Friday, as we sat around practicing math flash cards, he referred to me as "Mr. Dennis" -- two girls immediately finished with "... Mustache." When Pedro complained that he still wasn't a believer, Mr. Dennis Mustache pressed him, saying "Pedro, it hurts my feelings that you don't consider me to be a real person." Pedro squinted his eyes, lowered his voice, and whispered "Man... you're just going to get a hair cut." Mr. Dennis Mustache was shocked and disheartened, though Pedro's comments fortunately didn't seem to strike any chords with the other students at the table.

The following Monday, the real Mr. Dennis came back to class. Some students ran up and hugged me, others were just as confused as when Mr. Dennis Mustache had shown up the week before. Many of them were shocked at my hair cut, but their attention spans for the previous week were already gone. "You just got a hair cut! It was you all along! There is no twin!" When I responded with "Man.... I really wish Mr. Dennis Mustache would have shown you all the pictures and letter I sent..." most of the class fell silent again.

There have been some unexpected troubles in the aftermath of my brother's visit. While I was planning on requests for both of us to be in the same room (which have come in abundance), or at least conference calls with my brother, or photographic evidence of us both being in the same place at once, some of the students have been confused beyond what could be expected. On Thursday of the week of my return, one girl was studying my "Mr. Dennis" name tag, and excitedly shouted out "It's him! It's him! It's Mr. Dennis!" As confusion and accusations permeated through the crowd, I had to explain "yes, it's me -- it's been me for four days, right?" Oh. Yeah. Another girl saw my stubble and ran up to my face to feel it -- she turned to the others and announced "Look! He's growing a mustache -- it's still Mr. Dennis Mustache!!" as if Mr. Dennis Mustache were the real teacher, and he only occasionally shaved and pretended to be his twin, Mr. Dennis.

Because this post has been particularly image-fueled, I'll leave you with a note (and picture) that one of my students gave me to give to Mr. Dennis Mustache. I came home from school and almost felt guilty about reading it, but I managed to crack it over after confusing myself about the morality of the situation. I guess it could be seen as sort of a first-grade ransom note or vehement request, but I like to think of it as more of a Zen statement: