I'm Gonna Put On My Big Girl Pumps And Deal With It!

That's right, I'm gonna jump right in and be the first to embrace a new teacher dress code. I'm gonna put on my big girl pumps and deal with it! Now don't get me wrong...I love flip flops. They're comfy, cheaper than dirt, and some are cute as a button. And come to think of it, those are probably the reasons they aren't appropriate for a teacher to wear. Do I truly want to portray my profession as comfy, cheap, and sometimes cute? No, I don't, and it took the school system discussing adopting dress codes for the students and teachers to help me remember what I hoped to accomplish when I started teaching 27 years ago.

Of course, to tell the story correctly, I have to go back even further. Back to 1970, 5th grade at Heard Elem. I had two wonderful teachers whom I'm sure tried their best to teach me something useful, but what I remember most is their shoes! Mrs. Glanton would perch prettily upon her wooden stool to teach math and hook her navy blue pump heels on the bottom rung of the stool. I was always mesmerized by the fact that she could hold a bulky teacher's manual, turn and look at all sides of the classroom, and point a pencil at the chalkboard all while keeping those heels on the rung (and now that I think about it, I never saw her have to tug her skirt down either). I thought that was so cool. Thus began my dream to one day have my own classroom, my own stool, and pumps! Then there was Mrs. Loftin. We always beat her to the classroom after lunch (I think she planned it that way). Everyone would jibber jabber away until we heard "clip, clip, clip, clip" headed our way. She, too, had teacher pumps. And they had the magic ability to quiet a class of 30 kids from afar. Oh, my dream to own a pair and control the world of teaching soon became all that mattered to me.

I encountered many other "teacher pumps" along the way to my own classroom. There was Mrs. Woodham's English class at Girard Middle. Bless her heart, her pumps would clip clop across that classroom a hundred times during each class period as we drove her absolutely frantic with silly escapades. But she always loved us anyway (even when Bart hid her purse day after day and I never learned to diagram a sentence). And never to be forgotten Mrs. Buettner's class at Dothan High. She was a champion pump toe tapper. She would look at you, slowly shake her head once or twice, then tap that right pump on the floor a few times. She never said a word, but by the end of the year we figured out we could make it through her class without the dreaded toe-tap if we paid attention in class. I found having her approval was a good feeling (although she failed to teach me to diagram a sentence also!).

And women weren't the only ones with "pump power". There's a male equivalent of a women's pump called the leather loafer. You know the ones...fancier than a penny loafer and they bring the word "gentleman" instantly to mind. Mr. Dickens, my junior high history teacher had a pair that could coax an answer out of anyone. He'd ask a question then start rocking toe to heel and pretty quickly someone would call out an answer. What a great pair of shoes for a great teacher.

So I'm back to 2009, facing a closet full of flip flops and re-evaluating the power of apparel. I want to inspire my students not just with teaching skills learned in college and professional development sessions, but with every tool available - including what they see first when they walk in my room. My flip flops will be great with jeans on the weekend. And on school days....

I'm gonna put on my big girl pumps and inspire!