Two weeks ago in a deadline-driven frenzy, I recklessly suggested that Governor
Cellucci's support for capital punishment was "his only idea" since taking
office. Mea culpa. It seems my staff of fresh-faced interns has unearthed
another sterling gubernatorial initiative: mandatory school uniforms.
In an effort to end the madness of students dressing themselves, our grumpy
guv has offered legislation requiring school committees to vote on establishing
dress codes for their districts. It's nice to see Hudson's finest is
"thinking outside the box." Even if this bid for uniformity follows capital
punishment down the drain, the two bills demonstrate Cellucci's unique
willingness to speak out on the issues. In most states you would have to
scour the classifieds to find such a boldly proclaimed interest in discipline
and knee socks.
As expected, the governor's proposal comes dressed in the best intentions. Its
proponents claim that removing "fashion distraction" from the classroom will
allow students to better concentrate on their studies.
For Darlene Spiver, spokesperson for the Massachusetts chapter of Mothers
Against Unorthodox Attire (MAUA), the choice is clear. "We need to send the
message to our young people that it's not what you wear that makes you cool,
it's what you know." Ms. Spiver was unavailable for further comment as she was
reportedly at the mall looking for "a pair of pumps to go with my red outfit."
Despite the politically correct rationale offered by groups like MAUA, the
urge to dress strangers is rooted in two basic human instincts: conformity and
control. It seems our need for order is so all-encompassing that we are more
than willing to sacrifice personal freedom, and with it the quality of human
experience. Which, if you think about it, explains the popularity of everything
from fast food to fascism. (We should pray that a charismatic leader of a
totalitarian regime never develops a really great bacon double cheeseburger.)
The most troubling aspect of the school uniform bill is that its primary target
is teen-agers - the only segment of our population left that has any control
over the clothes they wear. If you doubt me, consider this: From the moment
you emerge from the womb swaddled in too-cute Winnie the Pooh overalls,
until you are lowered into the cold ground in the suit you said you wouldn't
be caught dead wearing, mysterious forces known only to Janet Reno are
controlling your pants. Wait, that came out wrong. Let me begin again.
As a child, you are dressed strictly for the amusement of others. Fortunately,
this is not as embarrassing as it sounds. During these formative years you have
a brain the size of a walnut and no concept of personal dignity. Accordingly,
you are more than willing to appear in public wearing a fuzzy little jumpsuit
designed to make you look like a green bean. Being cute on demand is the gig.
You need the applesauce.
The trouble begins just prior to your teen years when you tentatively begin to
develop a sense of style. This budding interest in your own identity is
immediately snuffed out by your parents, who are determined to preserve
your user-friendly image as a cuddly member of the vegetable family. I could
further illustrate by mentioning my own experience with cashmere dickies, but
I'd rather not jeopardize years of successful shock therapy.
Becoming an adult and entering the workforce only compounds the problem. It is
at this stage that you enter the dark world of outright costumery. During my
own early bouts with gainful employment, I was forced to don everything from
a poop-brown polyester cowboy outfit to a silly red vest adorned with
embroidered fruit. I looked like a complete dork. Thankfully, I've since
graduated to sophisticated office attire such as Dockers and polo shirts.
Now I look like Hugh Beaumont from Leave it to Beaver.
Let's face it, it's too late for most of us. We're doomed to a life sentence
of sensible shoes. But it's not too late to rise up and reject this
mean-spirited attempt to rob youth of its God-given right to be ridiculous.
Do it for pants the size of Rhode Island, surgically-attached baseball caps,
and jewelry-studded appendages yearning to be free. Do it for THE KIDS!
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