I never really planned to become an educator, but it’s something I’ve found that I really love. I’m a teaching artist, focusing on theatre, improv, and public speaking.
I’m not that much older than the students I teach—around 10 years their senior at most, depending on whether they’re middle or high schoolers. Sometimes the generational gap between us seems shockingly small, but other times it’s cavernous.
One of the biggest differences I’ve noticed comparing my school experience and my students’ school experiences lies in their dress codes.
Now, I teach at a wide variety of different schools and programs, so there’s nothing completely universal here. There are still schools with uniforms and strict dress codes. But I’m quickly realizing that certain schools I teach at don’t seem to have any sort of dress code at all. Students are free to dress however they please—from goth platform boots to crop tops to short skirts.
Shockingly (or not so shockingly) enough, the lack of a strictly enforced dress code does not lead to anarchy and the breakdown of learning, like I was so led to believe it would during my time in school. The students are fine. They’re learning just fine, wearing whatever they want.
When I first had a student come into class wearing a crop top, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised. That would have been an instant sentence to the principal’s office (and probably a sentence home, honestly) back at my middle or high school. But after the surprise there was… nothing! A crop top didn’t cause any problems. None of my students were leering or distracted. The only reason I noticed at all was because I just didn’t know it was something they were allowed to wear.
I’m so happy that tides are changing from the harshly enforced dress codes that I grew up with, but at the same time, I feel mournful that things couldn’t have started changing sooner.
I don’t think I ever got “dress coded,” but I remember always being afraid of it—obsessively checking the hems of my shorts and carefully choosing tank tops to wear under shirts with lower necklines. I was especially vigilant because I started developing very young and already had unwanted, scrutinizing eyes on my body. People had spread rumors that I was a “slut” as early as fourth grade, simply because of the way I looked.
If a teacher I trusted had said something similar, that I was “distracting” and “inappropriate” because of the way clothing hung on my body, I can only imagine the damage it would have done to my already abysmal self-esteem.
So often, when girls got called in for violating dress code—because it was always girls; I don’t know of a single boy who got called on it no matter what they were wearing—there was always a heavy element of shame involved. “Oh, of course they called her in.” “Did you see what she was wearing?”
Now that I’m an educator myself, I genuinely cannot fathom wanting to put a child through an experience like this. It feels intensely selfish. I want to protect my students, to uplift them and make sure they feel safe. I think kids learn best when they’re having fun, when they’re in an environment where they feel like it’s okay to be themselves.
I’ve never met a single person who looks back fondly on being reprimanded for violating dress code. “Ah yes, I’m so happy they interrupted my learning and made me change into my gym clothes in the middle of the day because my leggings were ‘too tight.’ I really learned a valuable lesson about how shameful my body is!” It sucks. It’s embarrassing at best and traumatic at worst.
As a theatre teacher, my main concern is whether or not my students are wearing clothing they feel comfortable in. Can you move around in your clothes? Are they going to be getting in the way or inhibiting you at all? I don’t care about them distracting other students—will they distract you?
Of course, I do have my own feelings about the way that certain fashion trends are tied with the oversexualization of teenagers at a very young age. I don’t like that girls are being pressured to dress and look like women at younger and younger ages, a phenomenon that I’ve watched only get worse as I’ve gotten older.
I also don’t think that dress codes are inherently wrong. I think that if they were done well, they could be good for teaching students about professionalism and knowing what clothing can make the best impression for different situations. I learned this as an actor—a great dress for an audition might not be great for a dance call, but my comfy rehearsal outfit certainly isn’t what I’d wear for a show. I even choose outfits differently depending on if I’m doing an improv show or stand up. It’s all just clothes, and there’s no clothing that’s inherently bad—it all depends on what’s going to serve you best in any given situation.
Unfortunately, the way that most dress codes are framed and enforced is something I simply can’t abide by.
At the end of the day, I don’t think it’s my job to tell my students what they should or shouldn’t be wearing. I’m here to teach, they’re here to learn. It’s as simple as that.
Laura Browne
Hi, I’m Laura! I’m a 24 year old artist, performer, and educator from Westchester, New York. I joined Survivors to Superheroes because I believe we need to get rid of the stigma surrounding talking about sexual violence. I want survivors to feel supported and heard. With my articles, I hope to open the door to honest conversations about sexual violence in the world around us. Beyond my work with Survivors to Superheroes, I love to bake, draw, and write comedy!
