Tonight, while I was gathering up my computer and trying to decide what I was going to write about, I glanced at one of our bookshelves. There was a book titled “Tony Curtis: The Autobiography,” featuring a picture of Tony Curtis as an older man. This made me think about one of my brushes with celebrity in Los Angeles: the day I had a conversation with Jamie Lee Curtis when I was a teacher at a private school where her children attended.

When I went for my job interview at a private school in West Hollywood, I didn’t know it was one of the top private elementary schools in LA, often referred to as the “movie industry” school. I had simply answered a blind ad in the LA Times for a 4th-grade language arts teacher. I didn’t have a teaching certificate, so I could only apply to private schools; who knew this one was so prestigious? This was July of 1998, and the Internet was not what it is now. Plus, I was relatively new in town and didn’t know anybody to ask about this particular school. All I knew was that I needed a job, and they had a nice building. Also, the moment I met Lois, the principal, I felt as if I’d met a long-lost sister.

Everything about that job was right place, right time. It was mid-summer and a teacher had unexpectedly quit, this in a school with a nonexistent turnover rate. It also just happened that my writing passion linked perfectly with what they were looking for. After my first interview with Lois, she asked me to return and teach a class for round two. I was super nervous until the moment before I was to start. At that point, Lois said, “You were the only really strong candidate until yesterday. That’s when we received two applications from certified teachers.” Ah, that deflated my excitement in a sentence, but it also eliminated my nervousness. I went in and taught that class with an “Oh well, they’re not hiring me” attitude, and somehow that translated to the kids as, “Let’s have fun.” It was as if the kids had been coached to make me look exceptionally competent, and two hours later, after I returned home, I received the call from Lois. “We are pleased to invite you to join our faculty.”

Imagine my surprise about the second week of school when I said to one of my fellow teachers, “There was a man who looked just like Jack Nicholson bringing his child to school this morning.” The response: “That was Jack Nicholson.” Oh my. It wasn’t long after that conversation that I saw Jamie Lee Curtis walking with her daughter in the hall outside my classroom. Oh, dear.

I won’t go on and on about how that information—that stars were roaming our playground and halls—unnerved this small-town Texas girl for at least a month or two. I was not used to seeing movie stars in the flesh. But it wasn’t long before I was over being totally star struck. After all, I saw them routinely. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any bona fide movie stars among my parents, but I did have an impressive group, several of whom were top Hollywood producers. One of the mothers in my class was the producer for Forrest Gump and had received an Oscar. Another set of parents—a father and mother—would receive an Oscar for their producer roles on Gladiator a few years later. Not to mention the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist or the head of a major film studio. But I digress.

Jamie Lee Curtis’s youngest child at that time was a 6th grader in the pre-K-6 school, so Jamie Lee was an old hand at this particular school. I saw her in the halls on many days, and she was always standing among the parents on Fridays at the weekly assembly. She looked exactly as she did in the movies: tall, slim, with medium-length hair.

I had no occasion to actually talk with her until late in the year. She decided, as a gift to the school, that she would interview all the teachers on videotape, edit the footage, and then present a video at the annual teacher appreciation luncheon.

When I went in for my turn to be interviewed, I was very nervous. What would this Hollywood star ask me? What would she do? Would I say something stupid when she asked me questions?

I didn’t expect to see Jamie Lee Curtis wearing a paper grocery bag over her head with cutouts for her eyes, nose, and mouth. Yes, that’s how she greeted me, and that’s how she conducted the interview. I think she must have known that people got the jitters around her, and she was relieving them of that awkwardness.

Instead, she stood beside the video camera—and the cameraman operating it—and asked me questions while wearing her “mask” of the paper bag. “What motivated you to be a teacher?” she asked. “Who was an inspiring teacher for you when you were growing up? What was your favorite and least favorite aspect of the school?”

One question I didn’t expect had to do with my recent haircut, which had resulted in my hair being super short. “I love your hair,” she said. “I love the way the short length accentuates your face.”

I was, of course, pleased. I like compliments, after all. I was surprised, however, when she came over to me after the “interview,” took my hand, and said, “You’ve inspired me. I’m going to call my hairdresser today and get a cut just like yours.”

I was flattered, yes, but I didn’t think any more of it. Except during the following week when I saw her in the halls, and her hair was at least as short as mine, if not shorter.

So, anytime you see Jamie Lee Curtis, you might note that she loves to wear her hair very short. I’m not sure if my hair inspired her or if she just said it did, but any time I see her on a commercial or on television or in a movie, I have to smile.

I continue to wear my hair super short, as does Jamie Lee. The main difference now is that she doesn’t color hers, and I still do, but before too long, I might emulate her and go all gray. Who knows? Stranger things have happened…