William Marvel: Educating Buffy, Part 4

Since she could think of no specific complicating factors herself, I'll suggest another one this week. Perhaps she'll hear about it at the next coven of local Democrats. 

The recent dress code controversy at Kennett High School revealed something disturbing about the dynamics there, and the outcome left me doubtful that anything will change soon. The debate illustrated a relative frivolity in student priorities, and a habit of acquiescence and indulgence on the school board. The latter trend already contributes significantly to the excessive expense and deteriorating performance of our schools. 

The points of contention seemed to be hats, hoodies, and the new fashion of wearing pajamas in public. The arguments in favor of allowing that kind of clothing in class relied on extreme cases, such as students who have (or claim) a psychological need to withdraw into hoodies to avoid social discomfort, and those who may be too poor to own anything but sleepwear. At first, board discussion was encouraging, with most members preferring an unequivocal policy that did not burden teachers with deciding what they would allow in their own classes. The majority seemed inclined to less casual attire, too, but that began to wither under the predictable appeals to pity.

Randy Davison, who is a teacher himself, explained how difficult it is to have to "battle" with students wearing hoodies that hide their faces and the earbuds they're wearing. Michelle Capozzoli, a UNH math lecturer and the new board chair, corroborated his complaint that such things are a distraction in the classroom. Randy stuck to his guns, characterizing headgear and hoodies as "disrespectful" — to the teacher, presumably, and perhaps to the whole idea of school — but eventually he and Joe Mosca were the only ones who recognized that connection. 

The student body president made a pitch for a lax dress code. The photo of her in this newspaper caught her in the shrugged-shoulders, upraised hands, and "Duh" facial expression generally recognized as international teenage sign language for "Why don't you idiots just do it the way I want?" Knowing that a still photo can misrepresent reality, I went to the Valley Vision tape and found, after all, that her tone with dissenting board members bordered on condescending, and even a little threatening. If hoodies or hats or pajamas were banned, she promised, students would descend on the board in 10 times the numbers they have previously. 

In what I suspect may not be a rare event, she finally got her way. Like parents accustomed to being worn down by importuning children, the board eventually voted to allow pajamas, hats, or hoodies anywhere in school, including in the classroom. I wonder if they will shed them for the Pledge of Allegiance. I don't mean the pajamas. 

Randy commented that he would like to see students go to a job interview wearing hats or hoodies, but the student rep replied that her generation knows when to transition from the casual atmosphere of school to a serious professional environment.

So clearly casual a student attitude toward school, and the adults who enable it, probably play a role in Conway's long scholastic decline. It's rather telling that no student petitioners have come to the school board recently demanding better academic quality — and that's a pity, because the board seems to have a track record of giving students whatever they want.

William Marvel lives in Center Conway.