Reading Beoca’s blog about the annual (English) School Uniform Protests I just couldn’t help myself. Despite having written a couple of stories on this theme before I just couldn’t resist. Addiction is a terrible thing isn’t it?

Before I even entered the school yard I could sense the disapproving stares. I had to remind myself that that what I wore was perfectly appropriate. Completely according to the letter of the school rules even if a bit unconventional. Well, at least here and now. History was on my side I reminded myself. Nonetheless, I could feel the sweat on my brow that was not only due to the 80 degree temperature already in the morning. I also reminded myself that I had the full support of my parents. I mean, skirts or pants, that’s just pieces of clothing isn’t it?

As expected I was called to the Headmaster to explain myself. She couldn’t punish me for breaking the rules but she gave me a long lecture about how disappointed she was in me. That I wasn’t a “team player” and that my contrariness eventually would lead me to a bad end. For a moment I wavered but then I got angry at her for trying to make me to conform. Conformity is not how societies evolve. If the stone age kids had listened to their parents we would still live in the stone age! I was proud to be different!

I was sent back to class. I had planned to keep a low profile but the Headmaster had really pissed me off so I put myself forward during the lesson. Not that the teacher looked any less angrily at me but I felt good.

I could take the disapproval of the teachers. I could take the teasing and scorn of my schoolmates. Actually the way they were teasing me was a welcome relief. I just couldn’t take another day of being harassed for my knobbly knees. That’s why I wore long pants instead of the skirt everyone else wore in the heat.