WHAT is she WEARING?!
Another episode of: My Job is Weird
I arrived at the second night of rehearsal for my latest dramatic adventure, Murder on the Orient Express, in an obnoxious, buffalo-plaid-hooded, Christmassy Cat sweatshirt. I know some of the cast from previous adventures, but some fellow actors are new acquaintances. Not a one of them commented on my attire, so I didn’t have the opportunity to mention that, for the first night of rehearsal I had taken the time to change before I went to the theater… out of my Grinch jammies and bathrobe.
As any regular reader of this publication knows, I am an elementary school teacher. As anyone who is child-adjacent — or is child-or-teacher adjacent in their social media feeds — knows, this is the week before Winter Break. In the annals of the School Year, this week battles with the Month of May for the amount of chaos and destruction it causes to the psyches of teachers everywhere.
I have written about the utter mayhem of the annual Holiday Program previously, so I will not belabor the point once again. This year I’m reflecting on a wider theme — that of the juggling act I find myself performing as I navigate the adult world and the children’s one.
An example: have you ever been walking down the hallway at your job and a fellow teacher suddenly asks you if you have a joke to tell her struggling student (who is currently in a puddle on the floor), and all that come to mind are dirty ones? There is no panic like the panic of an adult human who knows she shouldn’t ask the child, “How many radical feminists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”
(Answer: That’s not f***ing funny.)
Then, of course, there’s the experience of meeting children out in the wild, i.e. Outside of School. Most of the time I love this — I sang in a guest church last weekend (as you know, I broke my toe afterwards) and my student who goes to that church was so utterly delighted to see me that it put a shine on the whole experience. I get a huge kick out of running into kids at football and baseball games, and at community events. But you know those times when you’re exhausted and not public-ready but you still have to make it to Walmart for a few things? Imagine doing the zombie walk down the frozen food aisle and hearing a piercing shriek: MRS. LOEFFLER! MOM, LOOK, IT’S MRS. LOEFFLER!
I love my kids, and I love my job, so I paste on a smile and hug it out. No big whoop. The harder situations are when I’m being an adult in public — perhaps enjoying an alcoholic beverage — and all of a sudden there is a child at my elbow and I have to find my professional face real quick-like.
Dan points out that, especially as my former students grow older, seeing me is not always such a treat. He rolls his eyes when I call out from the stands at a Friday night football game, “Hey ______!” and the poor child side-eyes me and mutters, “Hey,” as he hustles on his way. I can’t help it, though. They’re always my kids.
I also have a tendency to strike up conversations with children in public. Worry not — I check in with parents with my eyes and get the ok, and if the child is uninterested I can take a hint. But I do so love discussing books and shoe choices with young humans.
Back to my wardrobe choices, I have finally come to the conclusion that it takes far too much energy to have separate sartorial personalities for work and play. The people I’m around on a regular basis don’t blink an eye when I show up to choir or a board meeting looking like Ms. Frizzle… or dressed in head-to-toe neon for 80s day during Homecoming Week… or with the sweater with a giant snowman paired with leggings that have huge Santa heads on them. For people who are strangers? Well Readers, I just don’t have time to worry about them.
None of this is revelatory — if you know a teacher, chances are you know a weirdo who marches to the beat of their grade-level’s drum. Just a few weeks ago I was talking to a colleague in the lobby of the movie theater, when all of a sudden she snapped, “Excuse me!” and took off running across the room. Why? Because a student of hers had arrived and she had to give him the Cheese Touch. She then spent the entire movie waiting for him to sneak up behind her in retaliation. Another elementary teacher, you ask? Why no! This amazing woman is one of my son’s favorite teachers: high school social studies.
We’re all lunatics. We kind of have to be.
Thanks for reading!
Love, Susie
As a non-fashionista, I can only say, there's nothing weird at all about your sweatshirt.
I was in a women’s group with2 retired teachers, one K, one First, from different schools. They both had the most amazing wardrobes, special clothing for every holiday, special time of year, or event. They’d explain that for big holidays they had at least a week’s worth of outfits. I knew they loved their jobs and the little people they taught.