Uniform! Oh, how I love a uniform! Uni. Form. UNIFORM. The clue is in the name.
It seems that there are newsworthy incidents happening all over the country regarding this most sensitive of subjects, and parents are receiving reprimanding phone calls from the Garment Police, threatening to take action if Barry’s tie is chewed, or Sharon’s coat isn’t blue with magenta piping.
As usual, my own opinions on this are all over the place. If ever there was an olympic sport called Fence Sitting, I would win gold. I can sit on the fence all day long, quite comfortably looking over at both sides, because I don’t have the bravery to pick the one I like best.
So, this is my attempt to work out who is right and who is wrong in the SCHOOL UNIFORM WARS. I will begin.
Schools are up against it. Funding is insufficient. Morale is low. Targets remain high, despite the goals constantly moving higher. Yet still, parents expect standards – high standards of teaching, exam results and behaviour, not to mention student safety and extra-curricular enrichment. Crikey! And most of us get all this supplied to our kids free of direct charge.
In September, teachers are on a mission. This will be the year that I nail it, they think. I will start as I mean to go on, firm but fair, organised and in control. I will find a work/life balance, they promise themselves. It will be fine! I may even enjoy myself. After all, young people are fabulous. Who wouldn’t want to work with them?
New teachers hear the mumbled rumour that they’re not supposed to smile until Christmas; start hard, ease up later. Don’t let little Kevin try to distract you from quadratic equations with a cheeky smile on his face – he’s not really interested in where your shoes are from. He’s playing you. Wasting time. So, I can understand that an early clampdown on uniform is important. The school is saying, “These are our rules – follow them. Please.”
Uniforms constitute the same clothes in the same style and colour, with the same accessories and appropriate logos. They create a sense of belonging, teamwork and cohesion. En masse, they look smart, which I guess is not everyone’s priority, but for a head teacher, who is proud of the school, it matters. A uniform allows a pupil to be recognised for the institution to which they belong – for both good and bad reasons, and thus generates a level of expectation and accountability.
The words instituition, accountability and expectation will always fill some people with dread. What about individuality? Where’s the freedom in all this? But ultimately, as a social species, we work best living in societies that work togther, and this is just what a school is: a society.
Uniforms, though, are not for everyone. Individuality is a vital part life. It is tough for Tracy to resist the blue hair dye, when all she wants to be is a mermaid. And Darren likes his earring – his Uncle Trevor has one, and there’s no finer individual than he. So when Sir asks Darren to remove it, feelings of resentment and conflicted loyalties come to the fore. Life is like that. But hopefully, by showing an ability to conform to the basic rules of a school uniform, the wide world will be less of a shock to a young person – or simply a unadulterated delight! Blue hair, earrings, a technicolour raincoat and piercings galore are all yours, if that’s what makes you happy!
As a child I never minded uniform. I wasn’t the most fashionable kid, and the thought of french schools, where you actually had to pick out clothes every day, was terrifying – (I still struggle with that now). But even in the right uniform, I always managed to look scruffy. I usually had toothpaste down me. I wore my socks to the knee when everyone else rolled them down. My tie was never right, and the buttons were always popping off my skirt. I was once laughed at by the school photographer for my messiness. And I’d tried hard that day!
So for some kids, uniform isn’t easy. Either you’re the tidy, Lenor-smelling child who never gets yoghurt down them and spends time with beautifully unbitten fingers, pulling stray hairs from other people’s jumpers. Or, you’re the one with a greasy mop, scabby legs and permastains on your shirt. I swear my mum took care of me – I just don’t wear things well. Never have.
And this is where the uniform rules start too bother me. SOME CHILDREN ARE JUST INHERENTLY SCRUFFY! Take the Three Little Seymours, for example. I wash their clothes. I even iron them. Sometimes. But always and without fail, by the time we get to the playground, someone is filthy! It’s baffling.
I have long since given up worrying too much about uniform. We do our best. But if the rules are tightening up to the point where some schools are sending pupils home because their trousers are not the right shade of grey (and we all know there are at least fifty), then I fear I may be in trouble.
Number One, thankfully, seems not to have inherited my scruffiness. She even has nice nails! Her uniform looks smart on her, and her socks fit. But the blazer I bought her from the second-hand uniform sale last term is already looking tight on her, and is certainly a different shade of navy to the new alternative. I’m going to need to start saving for a bigger one. From the specialist supplier. Oh joy.
A school near to us has just phased out skirts altogether. Boys and girls alike will wear trousers. Conversely, another local school seems to allow its girls to wear the uniform equivalent of tutus. Skirt length is a contentious issue, certainly. It annoys some people that it’s even discussed at all. All I can say is that any piece of clothing that avoids gusset reveal is a good thing. Nobody needs to see gussets in polite society. On a tennis court, maybe that’s understandable. But not in Maths. Or R.E, for goodness sake.
Oooh! I may have just stepped down off the fence a little bit! Go me! But I still can’t really decide how I feel about the whole uniform debacle – schools must be careful not to alienate hard-up parents, and they really need to pick their battles. But I know how proud I feel when I look at my Number One in her preppy jumper, tie, blazer and pleated skirt as she leaves for school in the mornings. There will plenty of time for her to experiment with fashion later ( I’ve always been rather intrigued by goths – maybe she’ll indulge me?), but for now, she’s privileged to be part of something – a learning community, rules and all. And she’s happy. Hoorah!
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