Dress codes, wisdom of Solomon

Faculty meetings aren’t Poor Elijah’s favorite things. Last year’s final convocation focused on the dress code. Questions had arisen regarding skirts, shoes and sleeves.

You may be wondering why public schools, reportedly on the brink of academic collapse, would concern themselves with such matters. What about standards? What about assessment? Where were the curriculum drafts?

Regrettably, there was ample time to wade through those waters, as well. But the dress code debate lends insight into the impotence afflicting American schools.

Poor Elijah’s school has long prohibited skirts shorter than four inches above the knee. Now, incredible as it may seem, Poor Elijah didn’t obtain his degree in English so he could track hem lengths featured in the wardrobes of 12yearolds.

Then there’s the related “shorts” issue. Naturally, gender equity requires that boys’ shorts remain as close to their respective kneecaps as girls shorts do. But how close is close enough? How are shorts different from skirts? How many administrators can dance on the head of an ACLU lawyer?

Dress codes, like all school rules, are supposed to ensure that nothing interferes with student learning. The skirt rule, for example, was probably ordained to prevent adolescent boys from becoming unduly distracted by adolescent girls. Believe it or not, without casting blame on either gender, these wardrobe attractions and distractions happen in both gender directions.

But, skirts aside, the dress code debate illustrates the dwindling power we grant schools to govern themselves. It illustrates the lack of confidence we place in schools and in the judgment of the men and women who work there. And it illustrates the pettiness that we as individuals too often cloak in the lofty language of the First Amendment and our right to “free expression.”

You be the judge. Consider the tank tops girls commonly wear. How do you define the difference between a tank top and a sleeveless blouse? How wide does the strap have to be? Should girls’ bras be visible? What about bra straps? If you’d choose to permit tank tops, what would you say about male muscle shirts with the armpits cut down as far as the average male navel?

If you’d ban them, what would you say when some boy, or his lawyer, asks why girls can wear their version of tank tops, but boys can’t wear theirs? If you permit them, what would you say about females wearing tank tops cut down as far as the average male navel? And what would you say about fishnet muscle shirts, for males or females? Or bare midriffs? Or bare chests? Come up with any rules yet? What about flipflops? How are flipflops different from sandals? If I pay $50 for a pair of leather flipflops, are they flipflops or sandals? If we allow flipflops, what happens in the hall crush? Do we flunk students for gym if they don’t wear shoes they can safely run in? Who gets to handle that parent complaint? Or do we let flipflop kids fall and sue the school?

OK, Solomon. What do you say?

These complications are why faculties convene to debate armpit openings. This is how we wind up in solemn assembly, contemplating flipflops and student navels. Somewhere short of permitting students to come dressed as nymphs and satyrs, someone needs to come up with a few rules. That’s the way human society works. And schools, after all, are a form of human society.

They are, however, these days a highly unstable form of human society. That’s because too often nobody’s in charge. Too many schools have leaped onto too many passing bandwagons and in the process lost their credibility. Too many parents have met school expectations in behavior and academics with the battle cry, “Not my kid,” and gotten away with it. We’ve all lost as a result.

Don’t you think that the principal entrusted with the education of your town’s children might also be trusted with deciding if a skirt is too short or a condom Tshirt is too offensive, at least for school use?

To be sure, some principals exercise poor judgment about everything from clothing to curriculum. It’s hard to be certain without being there, but chances are telling students not to wear leggings “unless you are a size zero or two” because “you look fat,” or ejecting a student because her shirt “wasn’t the right cut of a crew neck top” demonstrate less than impeccable administrative judgment.

You may initially object to prohibitions against “ripped jeans and other torn clothing.” Consider, though, that some rips and tears are more strategically placed than others. On the other hand, sending a student home because a fraying patch on his jeans constituted an “emerging hole” sounds excessive.

No, Poor Elijah doesn’t agree with every rule. No, four inches isn’t a number that came down from Sinai. Nor did he favor banning trail coats in New England because the two Columbine murderers had worn them. However, it probably wasn’t necessary to insist on wearing them before the bodies were cold.

Precedents matter, especially in an age when Constitutional norms and rights are under threat and siege.

And Poor Elijah zealously guards his rights.

But think what we could accomplish, and the hurt and problems we could avoid, if sometimes we didn’t insist on what’s ours just because legally maybe it is.