I attended a small Catholic school in Glendale, Ohio from the 2nd grade through most of the 6th grade. I have wonderful memories of that school, and the people who ran it. And even though I haven’t walked those halls in over 30 years, I could still close me eyes and see each classroom. Each blackboard. Each face of my teachers. Some beloved. Some not so much.
And I wore this every day that I attended.
My mother was in charge of letting it out a little each year. She was also in charge of the hem. The nuns told us that our skirts must not go above the length of our fingertips when our arms were straight by our side.
And since I was born with unusually ape-like long spaghetti arms, my mother took pity on me and allowed me to fudge a little on my hem.
She was a rebel too.
My reputation as a pack rat ought to be solidified in your minds, since you see that I still have that uniform in my possession. Actually, it was my Dad that kept it all these years, and finally sent it to me a few years ago.
And I cannot bear to part with it. As you can see, the hem is coming out. I look at those maroon stitches, and I know that those were the stitches that my mom painstakingly sewed, so that I wouldn’t look so much like a goober.
The waistband button also bears her sewing skills, as she had to re-sew that button on at least a thousand times, as I was also blessed with a thick midsection.
I looked like a skinny sausage. With toothpick legs.
After the hundredth or so time of re-sewing that button, she finally gave up trying to match the correct thread, and just used whatever she had. In the last patch job, she used light blue.
I never thought twice about wearing a uniform to school. I never felt like I was missing out on anything. I do remember my mother telling me after I started attending public school, that she missed all the money she was saving by sending me to school in a uniform. And how easy it was in those days to get me dressed in the morning. (And she never once had to come pick me up from Catholic school because I was dressed inappropriately. And yes, that did happen in middle school.)
I don’t remember wearing a uniform ever being an issue with classmates either. It was never evident which child was born of affluence, and which child attended a private school because he or she had parents that shopped garage sales and clipped coupons to be able to afford that private school.
It simply didn’t matter to us.
A week or so ago, a rather heated discussion about the use of uniforms showed up in the Mom’s Homeroom message boards. I was rather surprised by the venomous responses against wearing uniforms. I know that some public schools have adopted uniforms in an attempt to minimize gang affiliations, and peer pressure.
I for one think it’s a good idea. But since I homeschool my kids, I don’t often have the opportunity to discuss it. But if I didn’t homeschool my kids, I’d be all for it.
As Moderator of the Mom’s Homeroom boards, it wasn’t my job to give my opinion, just make sure everyone follows the rules and plays nice.
But, I wanted to bring the discussion to you all. What is your opinion of uniforms? Either in the private school sector, or in a public school setting.