Uniform
When I started school I had to wear a uniform. During the first few years I didn't mind; everybody else wore the same and at five years old I don't think any of us knew what rebelling was all about.
But by the time I was about ten, I'd had enough of a) being forced to be the same as everybody else, b) getting picked on by kids from other schools as they instantly knew I went to the 'posh private school', c) having to wear the most stupid, hateful hats ever designed in public.
I asked if I could go to another school where the uniform was fun to wear, but then cried for a month after I was told St. Trinians wasn't a real school.*
Between the ages of ten and twelve, my uniform took a beating from 'accidental' tree damage, hot washes to try and drown the kit, and also dog attacks to the hat from not only my own furry friends, but any passing mutt that wanted to play frisbee with it.
But despite my efforts, there was always some way the school found a spare jumper or tie, and another fecking straw boater would turn up just as I was trying to escape and go home.
But then, at age nearly thirteen, I decided I'd had enough of that place. I'd put up with derisive teachers and bitchy peers for too long and I was found a place at a school in Fulham.
So from being in a very 'white, middle class' all girls school environment for nine years, I went to a school which was mixed (which meant boys) and as most of the other pupils were from local council estates, I stood out like a sore thumb with my accent and - the worst horror of all - brand new, too large uniform, that was not like what the other kids wore at all.
I lasted six months there, but by the time I left I'd learnt how to look after myself and also the 'rules' of 'How To Change The School Uniform And Get Away With It'.
So, after I'd refused point blank to spend one more day at a school where I wasn't learning anything because 95% of the other pupils didn't care about anything other than mouthing off at teachers and getting pregnant, my parents found me a place at another school.
This one was also mixed, but a lot nearer to home and also, despite my intense hatred of school since I was forced to go, not too bad.
On my first day I was given the uniform code so that I could get my kit together. It read -
For Girls,
On my third day I walked through the gates wearing -
The teacher stared at me with mouth agape for a while.
A month later a new list was drawn up, with a stricter and more precise dress code on it.
Again, the teachers sighed, and again, the regulations list was re-written.
So alas, the cheesecloth and embroidery had to go, but I managed to find a 50's style shirt which I could tie at the waist to go with my new black pencil skirt, and as they'd decided that ties were to be mandatory, my new school tie tied in a very trendy half knot St. Trinians style.
The teachers gave up on me after that, and apart from having to put in an appendage saying that boys were allowed to wear skirts, as after all, the girls were allowed to wear trousers, and to not have the option available to them would be discriminatory**, they didn't bother to re-write the uniform regulations again until I'd left.
It was probably for the best that none of them spotted what was written on my house badge, too.***
A strange thing is, that I've kept my uniform from all those years ago. And it still fits, too.
*I don't think I've ever really gotten over that, either.
**Nothing to do with me, honest guv.
***F*ck off and die.
When I started school I had to wear a uniform. During the first few years I didn't mind; everybody else wore the same and at five years old I don't think any of us knew what rebelling was all about.
But by the time I was about ten, I'd had enough of a) being forced to be the same as everybody else, b) getting picked on by kids from other schools as they instantly knew I went to the 'posh private school', c) having to wear the most stupid, hateful hats ever designed in public.
I asked if I could go to another school where the uniform was fun to wear, but then cried for a month after I was told St. Trinians wasn't a real school.*
Between the ages of ten and twelve, my uniform took a beating from 'accidental' tree damage, hot washes to try and drown the kit, and also dog attacks to the hat from not only my own furry friends, but any passing mutt that wanted to play frisbee with it.
But despite my efforts, there was always some way the school found a spare jumper or tie, and another fecking straw boater would turn up just as I was trying to escape and go home.
But then, at age nearly thirteen, I decided I'd had enough of that place. I'd put up with derisive teachers and bitchy peers for too long and I was found a place at a school in Fulham.
So from being in a very 'white, middle class' all girls school environment for nine years, I went to a school which was mixed (which meant boys) and as most of the other pupils were from local council estates, I stood out like a sore thumb with my accent and - the worst horror of all - brand new, too large uniform, that was not like what the other kids wore at all.
I lasted six months there, but by the time I left I'd learnt how to look after myself and also the 'rules' of 'How To Change The School Uniform And Get Away With It'.
So, after I'd refused point blank to spend one more day at a school where I wasn't learning anything because 95% of the other pupils didn't care about anything other than mouthing off at teachers and getting pregnant, my parents found me a place at another school.
This one was also mixed, but a lot nearer to home and also, despite my intense hatred of school since I was forced to go, not too bad.
On my first day I was given the uniform code so that I could get my kit together. It read -
For Girls,
- Black or grey skirt or trousers.
- White shirt.
- Black jacket.
- Black or grey shoes.
- Tie optional.
On my third day I walked through the gates wearing -
- Black jeans. (tight)
- White t-shirt.
- Black leather jacket.
- Black stilettos.
- No tie.
The teacher stared at me with mouth agape for a while.
A month later a new list was drawn up, with a stricter and more precise dress code on it.
- Black or grey skirt or trousers (no jeans)
- White shirt. (With sleeves, no t-shirts)
- Black blazer (With school badge on pocket, not leather)
- Black or grey shoes. (Maximum heel height, 2")
- Tie optional.
Again, the teachers sighed, and again, the regulations list was re-written.
So alas, the cheesecloth and embroidery had to go, but I managed to find a 50's style shirt which I could tie at the waist to go with my new black pencil skirt, and as they'd decided that ties were to be mandatory, my new school tie tied in a very trendy half knot St. Trinians style.
The teachers gave up on me after that, and apart from having to put in an appendage saying that boys were allowed to wear skirts, as after all, the girls were allowed to wear trousers, and to not have the option available to them would be discriminatory**, they didn't bother to re-write the uniform regulations again until I'd left.
It was probably for the best that none of them spotted what was written on my house badge, too.***
A strange thing is, that I've kept my uniform from all those years ago. And it still fits, too.
*I don't think I've ever really gotten over that, either.
**Nothing to do with me, honest guv.
***F*ck off and die.
posted by Misty at 31.7.07
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