Teacher Chic

"That woman has the fashion sensibility of Marion P. Krier." ~Ryan Johnson, circa 1993

I distinctly remember some vocabulary words I learned in the 8th grade: debonair, chic, suave, dashing. Clearly high fashion was the common theme in that unit. Ironically, though I learned these words in a classroom, school was the last place I'd ever see these words become personified.

Teachers have notoriously bad style. School is, it seems to me, the birthplace of stirrup pants, 24-eyelet boots with spaghetti shoelaces, turtle necks with crocheted vests, over-sized sweatshirts to cover overgrown buttocks but cinched above the hips by a large belt to create the illusion of a waistline, heelless huarache sandals, and most importantly, the holiday sweater.

Now I said "birthplace" before, but that's probably wrong. The above items were probably not birthed in schools, but are more likely vestiges of mainstream fashions that were adopted by teachers way after their initial decline in popularity.

Let me give you an example. My high school German teacher (Beth's German teacher also, though we weren't in the same class), embodied the German word "altmodisch" (look it up). On a good day, her outfit consisted of coffee-brown polyester pants, a pumpkin-orange cotton-blend long sleeved turtleneck shirt, a shapeless brown and orange afghan-woven vest, toffee colored orthopedic shoes, and a single, lifeless, gray and brown braid that trailed flaccidly down her back to the top of the polyester pants. Wait, don't let me forget to mention 7" diameter armpit sweat stains that remained there in spite of the coldest of weather conditions and thermostat settings.

Now, I could go on with stories about badly dressed teachers for days and days. I'll save that for another time. I'd just like to pose this question to our dear readers (and by "readers" I mean Beth :) ) before I try to tackle it myself. Why is it that the teacher profession seems to be a veritable hotbed for the shabby, the moth-eaten, the tacky, the unbecoming, and the unstylish alike?

Are we teachers really that poor? That out of touch? That much in need of comfort? Or do we just not care? And finally, if this is the case, is someone going to tell me when my clothing is so out of style, it's actually disrupting the learning process? Or will I live in ignorance, only to discover years after my retirement (no, I wont make it in this business that long), that one of my former students has dedicated a blog entry to my poor fashion? I don't believe I'll ever know.