MY FASHION STATEMENT

Maybe I’m not on the same wavelength as everybody else. Should I be? All the recent hoopla about school dress codes pales in comparison to what I had to endure. I’m not talking about the serene calm permeating the air on the day that all Michigan prisoners had their personal clothing confiscated and were forced to wear state-issued blues. Sure, when they electronically opened their cells on that special day, most correctional employees erred on the side of caution.

And why not? If something jumped-off, let’s say a random shanking, how would the perpetrator be identified? Hmmm… He had on a blue shirt with matching blue pants with a hunter’s orange stripe running down the pant leg. Oh, and he was dark complected. Okaaay … sort that out.

Not that I care. So all you youngsters (and your parents) out there sniveling over a dress code—get over it! My students wear the same outfits, and as far as I’m concerned, “Why shouldn’t you?” Actually, most public schools are still allowing you to choose your own clothing. Just don’t show up looking like a hoochie-mama or jimmy-mac. Distractions in an educational setting need to be eliminated.

And yeah, I’m a hypocrite. So what? Stop your rapid eye movement. The last time I wore a suit and tie to work, the immobilization siren blew, and I had to serve cake to over a thousand inmates in the chow hall. I thought my arm was going to fall off. The only reason I was in formal attire on that day was because my regular work clothes were still in the dirty laundry basket at home.

As a matter of fact, teachers should be able to wear whatever they want. When I worked at a Detroit prison, they implemented a silly dress code. They wanted me to wear slacks, dress shirts, and dress shoes. Can you believe it? No tennis shoes. No twill pants—I had to look that one up—what they meant was no Dockers. I had a closet full of Dockers. I sought further clarification. They made allowances; Dockers are okay if you wear a tie.

One day I showed up sporting Dockers, a Croft & Barrow dress shirt, and the required tie. The correction officer yelled, “FREEZE THE GATES!”

Slightly confused, I had already gone through the metal detector undetected once, I decided to go through it again. She stopped me. “Sir, I cannot allow you on the premises with tennis shoes. Per the deputy warden’s memorandum.”

“Huh,” I said. “I’m not wearing tennis shoes.”

“Sir,” she said, “they have a rubberized sole.”

There wasn’t any need to argue. She contacted the deputy warden, who came up front. They glanced down at my shoes. With a smile on my face, I said, “They're Sperrys—the original boat shoe.” Needless to say, I was allowed to perform my duties that day.