Students today might chuckle when they see a photo of kids' school attire from back in the day. For baby boomers attending class in the 60's, though, those photos remind us of a time when students couldn't just dress as they pleased. Conformity to the rules, such as following the student dress code, was practiced by students, administrators and parents alike.
Eddie, Wally, Lumpy and the Beaver
Perhaps the best way to appreciate the standard school attire during my high school years might be to simply watch a rerun of Leave it to Beaver. The students at Mayfield High School pretty much exemplified the styles of that time period.
And an episode of that show still sticks in my mind as an example of a minor student-led rebellion regarding expected and approved clothing.
In that installment, Beaver and his friends buy "monster" sweatshirts and agree to wear them to school on the same day. But Beaver is the only one that manages to sneak out of his house in the gruesome attire and suffers the consequences of violating the school's dress code.
Hobo day at Forest Hills
To my knowledge none of my cronies even thought of the above-mentioned TV show when we came up with the idea of dressing like a hobo in an effort to protest our school's conservative dress code. In fact, I'm not sure how many classmates of mine might even remember that day.
I'm sure you know where this story is going.
On the morning of our planned rebellion, there I was, donning an old blue t-shirt, covered with an untucked, long-sleeved flannel shirt, draped over my paint-stained blue jeans. My pants were riddled with holes - and this was long before that style became popular. To bottom off my articles of clothing, I sported a pair of stained tennis shoes. Prior to that day, I bet tennis shoes never came in contact with the floors in that school building other than during gym class.
But I was a clean hobo
I remember my mom smiling as she watched me head out to the car that morning. I normally didn't drive to school, but on this day I wasn't sure how long I'd be permitted to remain there.
Mom had actually approved of my attire and even made sure that all of my clothing had been washed prior to the day of protest. But, I was most impressed with the fact that she had permitted me to wear that outfit in the first place, signifying her support of our mini-rebellion. I guess one could say my mom was pretty cool, especially for those times.
To the office
I managed to make it through home room period without being reprimanded for my attire. However, during an early morning math class, I was asked to go to the blackboard and show my work regarding a geometry homework problem. Word soon got out about my appalling appearance, and I was subsequently called to the office..
Our principal, Mr. Madigan, (about whom students would proclaim softly to each other in the halls, "Madigan is mad again) sternly directed me to take a seat in his office.
An odd observation
I'll never forget the facial expressions on the faces of the two office secretaries when I walked in. One tried not to smile when she glanced my way. It was almost as if she didn't want to be caught grinning during the impending wrath coming my way from the principal.
The demeanor of the other secretary was completely different. Her apparent displeasure and disgust was as if I was Charles Manson being hauled in, cuffed, and arrested for the Tate-LaBianca murders.
The interrogation
"What would your mother say if she knew how you dressed for school today?" is how the principal began his tirade. I had no desire to tell him that she had approved of my attire. Plus, I actually thought ahead for once, and I didn't want him to think less of my mom if he discovered she was okay with my garb.
When Mr. Madigan learned that I had driven to school, I was ordered to head back home, change clothes, and then return. Mom said she wasn't surprised at all with what had transpired. She then asked how many others had dressed like I did, and I replied that I was the lone hobo.
Perhaps someday I'll relate to readers how I covered my face with white shaving cream and walked into my senior English class. For now, let's just say that I was alone (like the Beaver) in that scheme, too.
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