What Not To Wear: Teacher Edition

I never cared much about clothes until I became a teacher. I slunk around in little boys' t-shirts and busted up jeans, gloves with the fingers cut off and Birkenstocks past their prime. It wasn't that I was vehemently anti-fashion; I was just lazy and financially limited. Also, I figured that it took more effort to dress in a consistently dumpy manner than to attempt to look good every now and then. So I pretended that my shabby look was intentional and hoped no one noticed.

These days, I can't get away with such sloppiness. Not so much because I have a "real job" that I respect by dressing appropriately (which is true), but more out of self-defense. Not only do I have to display myself in front of fifteen Polo and Guess-clad international students every day in the classroom, I also seem to run into my students around town at an alarmingly high rate. Regardless of where we are, they notice my clothes.

I know I sound paranoid, here. For those of you who require proof, here are some gems from previous students:

"Are those shoes leather? I think they are plastic."

"Did you change your hair on purpose?"

"Your arms are a little strange for a woman. Do you lift weights like a man?"

Most of these seem vaguely insulting, though all were delivered innocently enough. With second language learners, it's sometimes difficult to discern between criticism and curiosity. I try my best to breeze through awkward moments like these. No big deal, right? Yet I often find myself wondering, later in the day, why Ayumi* had been examining my unremarkable boots.

My theory is that students are fascinated by any information that allows them to understand their teachers as human beings rather than grammar robots, or whatever. Not that we educators are robotic, but learners sometimes assume that our lives are restricted to teaching during the day and grading during the evening. Students seem genuinely surprised when they witness us doing regular stuff that doesn't involve school. (Kind of like the time I saw the desk librarian from my elementary school at the county fair. She eats corndogs! She's not carrying a book!)

Yes, the attention is somewhat flattering, but also distressing. It means that I'm always being watched. Watched!  Hence, my current work wardrobe of black, black, and boring. No funky cardigans, tiny braids in my hair, or purple nail polish. I know, completely dull. But safe! You got something to say about my black crewneck? Didn't think so.

*All names and nationalities have been changed