What Not to Wear (in Pre-K)

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School uniforms give me pause. I can see the (alleged) merits of kids dressing for success. Uniforms may lead to a slight increase in standardized test scores. They may increase student focus on academics. They may decrease gang activity. They may alleviate issues of jealousy and competition. They may be cost effective for parents. They may be the out a parent needs when her little princess discovers her inner ho (as a few of my Pre-K students already have). So, okay, I'll bite: school uniforms might be a good idea. Bill Clinton, who is so smart he may actually have two brains, said, “If it means . . . that our young people will learn to evaluate themselves by what they are on the inside, instead of what they’re wearing on the outside, then our public schools should be able to require their students to wear uniforms.” Hard for a yellow dog like myself to disagree with Bill. But standardized testing is bad enough. Do we really have to standardize dressing? I've taught in schools with uniform policies and haven't met a polo yet with magical powers. Even with Bill's seal of approval, I'm still not sold.

In theory, I do like the idea of suiting up for the task at hand, like a full body string around the finger. When I go to work, I put on teacher-y clothes: a modest skirt, flats, pearls. Nothing like a little Ann Taylor to give my brain a sharp nudge: Hey, you're the teacher; quit screwing around. But when I get home, I leave a smoking trail of discarded clothes and jewelry from the front door to the heap on the floor where I left my boxers and wife beater the night before closet. If my husband's home, I'll yell mid-transformation, "See, I'm cute." Then, poof, Cinderella at 12:01. An evening of hard liquor and heavy Facebooking has a uniform all its own.

But Pre-K? Their job description is pretty much: play, pick your nose, play some more, tattle 27 times, take a nap. What's the proper uniform for that? Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of conformity in the classroom. I lovingly explain my expectations. I want my students to behave. I give gentle reminders about the rules. I am a complete control freak. But even though I require a nice goose-step down the hall, I don't see any reason why it can't be done in some cute Gymboree.

Even in Pre-K, the seeds of fashion sense are germinating. Most kids have a style. Sometimes it reflects the parent's taste, but usually it's the kid's. Like my five-year-old, who just recently decreed all shirts without hideous commercial characters or garish text "boring." I blame the world around him, where ugly is the new black. Don't take my word for it. Take a peek at a random day on my playground . . .

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Sweet fancy Jesus. My eyeballs are vomiting.

Thank God, I have medicine. My daily dose of Christina . . .
















Ahhhh . . . I love that kid. Stacy London would, too. Tragically, she's moving to a new school for Kindergarten. A new school . . . with a uniform policy. I hope she doesn't read my blog, because I would not want to be the one to break that news. The poor child, this quite possibly could kill her. Great idea, Bill.


So, where do you weigh in on the uniform debate? Inquiring bloggers want to know..
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