Dressing Down
I’ve been student teaching this spring in a sixth-grade class. It’s been a stressful semester, but a good one. Since day one, I have been treated 100% like a colleague and equal by my teacher and her grade level partners. I’m very baby-faced and don’t always look like I’m in my 20s, but I know these kids very well, as I subbed for them a lot last year and in this past fall.
So they already have respect for me and we have a decent relationship. This week we’re on a camping trip with four total classes. I finished student teaching, but my teacher invited me on as a teacher to get the experience. We mostly hang in the medical lodge and make sure kids take their meds each day. Easy gig after months of teaching.
The kids are happy to see me, too. Anyways. We arrived at camp. I rode on the bus with my teacher. Two of the other teachers drove their cars with student luggage, and so did some parents. I got off the bus and started to head down to the lodge with the other teachers for our meeting with the camp director and the counselors. I stopped off to fill my water bottle before heading down.
As I finished up, a mom came up to me. I smiled and was about to greet her— “You can’t wear that”. “Excuse me?” “Young lady, that is so inappropriate for a school setting. You’re going to distract my son and all the other boys. I’m going to have to ask you to change as soon as we get to our cabins”. For reference: I was wearing jeans, a black undershirt, and a tank top with thick straps that covered my bra.
You literally only saw my black undershirt that kept my bra from being seen through my shirt. Oh, and it was 100 degrees (Fahrenheit). I let out a small chuckle. I thought it was a silly mix up we could laugh about later. Nope, that set her off. “Don’t you dare laugh! I’m serious. Who is your teacher? You are so disrespectful. No wonder you’re dressed like that, trying to get the boys’ attention I bet”.
I put on my best “polite teacher dealing with parents” smile. “Whose parent are you?” She told me. Her kid was a troublemaker from another class. “Well,” I said, “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I’m not a student. I’m a teacher. And the camp’s dress code allows my students to wear tank tops, so do not ask them to change”.
“Now you’re lying to me?! Where is your teacher? I’m getting you sent home!” One of my teacher’s partners, Mrs. A, overheard the yelling and came over—also in a tank top. “Is there something you need, Ms.?” She asked me. I shook my head. “No, I was just introducing myself to this mother. She didn’t know Mrs. T had a student teacher this year”.
Mrs. A nodded earnestly. “Yes, she has been such an asset to all of us this semester. Your son actually got a few science lessons from her this year! She’s going to be a great teacher”. The mother was absolutely red in the face. Later that afternoon, we brought all the parents down to our air-conditioned lodge to talk them through the week ahead.
Mrs. T, who is kind of our grade’s team captain, introduced me to the parents. Everyone except the one woman was happy to meet me, and a few even said their kids loved having me as one of their teachers. The best part of the week so far was when her son ran up to me at dinner and asked in front of his mom, “Miss, can you teach seventh grade next year so you can be one of my teachers? I’m gonna miss you!”