The rutting season

A good time was had by all yesterday evening. By all reports, AJ and the new babysitter enjoyed each other’s company. And Mr. Spy and I had a lovely time at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Fairlywell. where there was meat on a stick, plenty of bacon and cheese and cake made in coffee cups and topped with chocolate icing so it looked just like hot chocolate. I’m sure we came home larger. There were also conversations about Dr. Who, sex ed in schools, mime training, the alphabetization of DVDs, and many other unexpected topics. It was a lively group.

Today, we discovered that we had absolutely nothing on the calendar. And so we spent the day trying to get the yard ready for winter. For our efforts, we were rewarded with a great show. Several whitetail bucks came through the yard today. We seem many deer all year round, but we don’t often see bucks and only in the fall and winter. Two were chasing down a doe and making their rutting noises and locking antlers. It was fascinating to watch. Later, we heard the sound of a small plane, which is not so unusual, as there is a tiny airport in the next town. But this time it was a parasailer with a rainbow parachute dangling over the barn behind our house. We see hot air balloons out here from time to time, but this was a first. We stood and watched him from the balcony until we got too cold.

After a Friday night sleepover and a Saturday night babysitter, AJ is overtired and very crabby. I’ve left him to his own devices and I am currently watching two Harlem Globetrotters playing volleyball in the mud with other Amazing Racers. I wonder if there’s a swimsuit competition for admission to this show.

* * * * *

There’s a new post at AJ’s Clubhouse about a fantastic free astronomy program for the computer, just in time for the Leonids this week.

On the couch with my special one

I spent 5 hours today cleaning AJ’s room. I know, I’m shocked too. I started early. On the spur of the moment last night, AJ went to The Boy Across the Street’s house for a sleepover. Which is amazing, because The Boy Across the Street has a baby brother who is less than two weeks old. But his mom assured me that AJ would keep TBAS out of her hair, and it was therefore a case of more is less. So AJ wasn’t home to cause trouble. AJ actually thanked me for doing it. He may take his thanks back, however, as I’ve spent the rest of the day reminding him to put his stuff away. I think he’ll be glad when we ditch him with the babysitter tonight.

We are trying a new babysitter tonight. Our old one went to college and we’ve been getting by with relatives or just staying home. But tonight, we are heading to the home of Fairlywell and DJ for a party and so we called the son of one of our neighbors who is a very mature 8th grader who’s been having trouble finding babysitting jobs. Boys get the short end of the stick there, a lot of the time. AJ is excited to have a boy. He’s friends with the sitter’s little brother, who’s a grade ahead of him. I hope they both have fun.

I went out to the store to get some babysitter food (frozen pizza, Coke, pretzels). On my way in, I noticed some alarmist signs about the canned pumpkin shortage. I made a mental note to add pumpkin to my list. I wandered through the store picking up things and made a turn into the baking aisle. It was pretty easy to figure out where the pumpkin was. There was quite a crowd. By the time I got there, there were only 6 cans left. I grabbed one and put it in my cart. “You should take another one,” advised one of the other women, who was piling cans in her cart. “They could run out.” “I only need one,” I said smiling. Whether or not there is a real shortage, I do not know, but the signs seem to be an excellent marketing ploy.

Thanksgiving’s in a week and a half. Now begins the process of looking at a gazillion recipes and probably ending up making the same menu I always make. Do I make creamed onions this year? They are finicky, but delicious. Is this the year I try pumpkin creme brulee instead of pie? What are your favorite Thanksgiving recipes?

A shot in the dark

In the wake of the cancellation of AJ’s flu shot a few weeks ago due to a lack of vaccine, I’ve been haunting the website of our pediatrician for news on vaccinations. After my knock-down, drag-out fight with H1N1, I’ve stepped it up and discovered last week that our county Dept. of Health had received H1N1 vaccines and was running clinics for people in the priority groups (children, pregnant women, and those with chronic illnesses). I signed AJ up. Unfortunately, the clinic closest to us was full by the time I found out about it, so I signed him up for one about 45 minutes due west of here. Driving west from here makes me realize just where we are. Once you get through the town next to ours, there’s nothing but flat farm fields as far as the eye can see. There aren’t even any roads to turn off on.

We headed out around dinner time, and arrived about 10 minutes before our appointment. Driving out through the miles of farmland, I realize how easy it is to forget what dark really is. There are no streetlights out that way. Not even that many cars. There aren’t even, for the most part, any lights on the horizon silhouetting dark shapes of farm buildings. It’s just dark, so dark that it would have been easy to miss the signs for school where the clinic was held. But we managed to find it and turn into the crowded parking lot with at least ten minutes to spare. We’d been led to expect huge lines at the clinic. As it happened, this was one of the few that had appointments instead of a cattle call. I don’t know whether it was the appointments or the fact that this clinic was in the middle of nowhere, but we were in and out in ten minutes.

The whole thing was quite an operation. It was held in a huge regional high school. At the front door, we stopped at station one where our names were matched to a list of those with appointments and checked off. We followed arrows on the floor in blue tape to station two and stopped at a stop sign until someone waved us to a table. There someone asked us questions about current health and whether this was the first H1N1 dose, handed us some papers, and directed to the next station. At station three, a nurse went over the paperwork, asked us some questions, and made some notes on our paperwork before handing it back to us and waving it on. We followed and curvy line of arrows to the next stop sign and waiting for about 3 seconds before getting waved to a nurse’s station. There were two nurses at every station, each of which was separated from the others by temporary walls for the illusion of privacy. AJ was feeling a little nervous, which I mentioned to the nurses. They were so nice to him and so friendly, that it was absolutely no big deal. They showed him the vaccine dose, which looked like a syringe, and then pointed out that the tip had not needle so it wouldn’t hurt when they stuck it up his nose. They explained they’d squirt some in each nostril and how he had to sniff in after each one. We were done so fast, I almost forgot to ask them if I needed the vaccine — I’ve been reading conflicting reports on whether those who’ve had H1N1 needed a vaccination. They reassured me that I did not. And then we were on our way back home. AJ was talking a mile a minute about his experience, something he always does when he’s nervous about something and then it’s over. He thought the vaccine tasted a little like mint.

It is a freakishly beautiful day today, already 50 degrees. I’m looking forward to walking up to school to work in the library this afternoon. Hopefully they won’t turn me away for still having a bit of a cough.

Late edition

Today was the first day in over a week that I really got out of the house. And you wouldn’t believe what has happened while I was stuck in bed. Who knew the world didn’t come screeching to a halt? For instance:

1. Someone installed an enormous culvert at the entrance to our neighborhood at the place where the ground erodes every time it rains. It’s about damn time.

2. The construction project on the main road, which they’ve dithered around with for weeks, has suddenly taken off like gangbusters. Half the sidewalk is in already. I can’t wait to ride my bike on it. No longer will we have to walk on the shoulder to get to the Qwik-E-Mart.

3. Someone cut down dozens, maybe hundreds of trees in the nature trail It’s positively tragic. They are preparing for some wetlands restoration, but it looks like they’re about ready to blaze a road through. I am very, very sad about it.

4. Trader Joe’s made their shelves taller to hold more things. This made for a pretty good shopping trip today with one tragic exception — Trader Joe’s will not be carrying their gingerbread house kit this year. I had been all excited to buy it, because I always get it early so they don’t sell out and AJ always wants to do it immediately and I always make him wait until after Thanksgiving. We’ve built a house every year since he was 3 or 4. It’s the end of a cherished family tradition. Whatever shall we do? And don’t say bake one yourself. I did it once and I can tell you NEVER AGAIN. Way to much work.

In non-neighborhood news, I’ve now joined the masses who are trying out Google Wave. It seems like a pretty exciting concept, but I haven’t quite figured out what to do with it yet. Any suggestions?

That’s all the news from here. What’s going on in your neighborhood?

Veteran’s Day

A few days ago, I wrote over at AJ’s Clubhouse about how history starts at home. The post was inspired by a post at another website on creating family histories with kids and also by a letter AJ received from my great uncle.

My great uncle is in his 80s, still tall and anything but frail and sharp as a tack — everything my grandmother was not in her last years. I didn’t really get to know him until about ten years ago, as for a long time, he and my grandmother did not get along so well. There was a lot of history there that I’ll maybe get into some other time. But today, Veteran’s Day, I want to talk about the letter he sent AJ. We had written to him for a school Veteran’s Day project. I knew he’d been in the service and we wanted to ask him about his time there. He came back with an amazing five-page letter of stories from the three wars in which he served (WW II, Korea and Viet Nam). He was a career army officer, a W3st P0int graduate, a paratrooper and a colonel. The stories are amazing, real, heart-breaking and sometimes funny. He didn’t dwell on the gore or romanticize, but he didn’t hide anything either. But it was the paragraph he wrote after the stories that really touched me. I include it here verbatim.

AJ, since your mother asked me to tell some of my military experiences, I thought I would try telling them with a sense of honesty and reality, rather than painting them differently than what they were. Truth is, being a combat soldier is a terribly difficult role, particularly when one must make decisions which sometimes result in the death or maiming of one’s fellow soldiers. Still, almost daily, I think of decisions I made which inadvertently resulted in the deaths of my friends and fellow soldiers. Yes it troubles me and I feel guilt for not having been able to intervene or change unforeseen actions, once in play, or perhaps having made the wrong decision from the start. I suppose most leaders feel that way while evaluating in retrospect. I pray almost daily for families left without husbands and fathers. And I pray for forgiveness of mistakes I may have made which resulted in deaths or wounds. That pains me deeply. One comforting thought is that I never asked anyone to do anything I would not have. I am eternally thankful that God has given me life and spared it through many dangerous times. And I know I am forgiven because of God’s love.

I, like most seasoned soldiers, have respect for the men we were required to fight and kill. For the most-part they too were skilled, tenacious and dedicated to their cause. I shall never belittle or defame them. I pray for them and their families as well.

There are many things on which my great uncle and I do not see eye to eye. Politically, we are not only on opposite sides of the fence, but possibly on different planets. But he is still someone I respect immensely for his kindness, his intelligence, his strong sense of ethics, and his belief that doing the right thing means more than his own personal safety and comfort. I am truly thankful that there have been and are people like him who are willing to put themselves on the line to protect the things they believe in.

Happy Veteran’s Day

I’ve got it covered

There is a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. I’m wearing real clothes today, clothes with buttons and zippers and not lycra and elastic. I’ve done a load of laundry and made my own breakfast. One of my eyes has recovered and the other is on the mend. I’m still banned from the kitchen and AJ’s school and I’ve still spent most of the day in a semi-horizontal position, but there’s hope. I fear, though, for Mr. Spy’s health. Not only has he had germ exposure, but he’s been running around like a madman trying to keep us in food and clean clothes, to make sure AJ gets his homework done and gets to his after school events on time. Solo parenting is no picnic.

Let this be a lesson to you: get your H1N1 vaccines!

Okay, enough about that.

Florinda posted about cover songs today. It’s something I’ve been thinking about, mostly in connection with my new favorite show Glee, which is all about covers. In particular, I’ve been thinking about the covers I like better than the originals. Florinda asked us to dig into our playlists and fess up to our favorite covers. Here are mine, hot off my iPod. I edited out all Christmas carols, of which I have many multiple versions, and classical music, ditto. I’ve also omitted most folk and jazz, where playing old songs anew is part of the aesthetic. You really don’t want to know how may versions I own of “I am a Man of Constant Sorrow,” “Sweet Home Chicago,” “J’attendrai,” or any number of string quartets.

“Walkin(g) After Midnight.” Originally recorded by Patsy Cline (although it had been written for another singer Kay Starr, who didn’t use it); covered by Cowboy Junkies. It’s been covered dozens of times. I have the original — a classic, and also the Cowboy Junkies’ rendition in a live recording from their 200 More Miles compilation. The Cowboy Junkies take is a very different song. It opens with a long slow conversation between violin and guitar. The whole thing is slower and sexier, louche. The violin and guitar come off as characters in a seedy southern drama. It’s terrific.

“The Waters of March.” Originally by Antonio Carlos Jobim; covered by Holly Cole. Do I really need to write about this again? I love this song. I’ve written about it many times before. You can read about it here, where I talk about why I like Cole’s version more than others. Here are the lyrics and why I think it’s the perfect love song. Here is a parody of the song rewritten as an encomium to the Trader Joe’s shopping experience.

“Mad World.” Original by Tears for Fears; covered by Gary Jules with Michael Andrews. I have the original 1982 Tears for Fears version, which was a favorite of mine in high school. I loved it (and still do) for its playful movement between major and minor keys. The cover is best known from the Donnie Darko soundtrack, or so I hear. I’ve never seen the movie, but heard this version on the radio and fell for it. Not a happy song, but a pretty one. It reminds me a lot of “Too Much Between Us” in mood and its major/minor navigation. It slows down the pace, strips away the arrangement. It’s just a ragged voice and a quiet piano. It’s a totally different side of the song, one that’s maybe more appropriate for the lyrics. I’ll probably end up seeing Donnie Darko just because of this song.

“While My Guitar Gently Weeps. Original by The Beatles (written by George Harrison); covered by Jake Shimabukuro. For those who think the ukulele is not a real musical instrument, you have clearly never listened to Jake Shimabukuro. This arrangement is a piece of art. I’ve written about this before too. There’s a link to a video of this song there.

“Wichita Lineman.” Original by Glen Campbell (written by Jimmy Webb); covered by R.E.M. I am not a big fan of Glen Campbell, but I have always loved this song. Mr. Spy has a recording of Jimmy Webb singing it himself with piano, which I really like. But the R.E.M. version off the Bittersweet Me EP, is my favorite. It’s enough off-kilter to keep the song interesting.

“Too Much Between Us.” Original by Procol Harum; covered by Jules Shear. This is a case where I’ve never actually heard the original, recorded by Procol Harum. It’s not for want of trying. I can’t seem to track down a recording. The first version of this song I heard was another cover, a bonus track on a CD of Peanuts music I got for AJ recorded by new age pianist George Winston as a piano solo. The chord changes really drew me in — they’re unusual and interesting. Jules Shear’s version is simple and spare. He’s accompanied by simple chords on the piano and guitar, with a few long tones from a pedal guitar, some light backing vocals, and a couple of sounds I’ve been unable to identify, in part because they’re so soft. The words are front and center. Everything grows out of them. I like Shear’s voice, too. A little gravelly, it contrasts well against the soft “oos” of the background vocals on the chorus.

“King of the Road.” Original by Roger Miller; covered by Rufus Wainwright and R.E.M. I have two versions of this song, one by Rufus Wainwright, one by R.E.M.. Wainwright gives it the character the song’s after. It sounds like a road song. But I really love the R.E.M. off the Dead Letter Office album. It’s something about the way this recording is mike, the slightly off-kilter pitch and the way it sounds like they’re not sure what song they’re going to sing when they start. It sounds like it’s the dance in the high school gym and it’s two in the morning and there are only a few people left propping each other up on the dance floor, but the band, though tired, isn’t ready to call it a night. If truth be told, though, my favorite version of the song was recorded by Mr. Spy on my answering machine when we were first dating. He called back three times to get the whole song on there. I saved it for years until a power outage erased it.

“Somebody to Love.” Originally recorded by Queen; covered by the cast of Glee. Okay, here’s an embarrassing fact. I first heard this song as sung by Ann Hathaway in Ella Enchanted, which I watched by myself with no children in tow. Ann does a fair job, but she’s no singer. But I liked the song and was surprised to find the original was by Queen. I can’t imagine how I’d never heard it before. Queen’s version is (surprise!) an overblown blowsy arrangement in a pseudo-gospel style. The Glee version makes it because Lea Michele has an incredible voice. Strangely, the Glee arrangement sounds as if it might have been inspired by the Ann Hathaway version. Or maybe there are just so many things you can do with a song like this one, that’s based on vocal harmony.

“Take Me to the River.” Originally by Al Green; covered by Talking Heads. I have both of these versions (many others have covered this tune as well). There’s no touching Al Green. It’s a classic. But the Talking Heads is vintage 80s, and for me that’s worth a lot, if only for the memories of a party one night at a friend’s Amh3rst dorm that was pure exuberance. Or maybe that was just beer.

“Why Does the Sun Shine?” Original by Hy Zaret and Lou Singer; covered by They Might Be Giants. This is another case where I heard the cover first. They Might Be Giants stays very true to the spirit of the 1959 original, as you can hear here. I picked up this tune for AJ during his space craze, but I’ve kept it because I like it too.

“Janine.” Originally by Soul Coughing; covered by Mike Doughty. Okay, this isn’t exactly a cover in the strictest sense, seeing as Mike Doughty was a key member of Soul Coughing. But this live solo acoustic version off The Gambler EP is actually quite different, less moody, more appealing. The girl crooning the lemon tree song into the answering machine on the original always irritated me. She’s not in this version, and the song’s the better for it, and also for the interaction between Doughty and his audience, who appear to be standing on the street outside Mike Doughty concert.

“Helter Skelter.” Originally by the Beatles; covered by The Bobs. This song off the Beatles’ White Album has been covered by many, but I love The Bobs’ version best for the vocal pyrotechnics erupt when you turn the instrumentals into a cappella vocals. It was even better live.

“Bali Ha’i.” Originally from Rodgers & Hamerstein’s South Pacific; covered by Frank Sinatra. Okay, this kind of falls in the area I said I wasn’t going to cover, but it’s just such a fabulous version of this song — Ukeleles! Singing in Hawaiian! And a young, very croony Frank! What’s not to love?

“Take a Bow.” Original by Rihanna; covered by the cast of Glee. This is probably the only song on here where I really can’t stand the original version. It’s not a well-written song. But Lea Michele sells it, as I’ve written about here.

“Hallelujah.” Original by Leonard Cohen; covered by k.d. lang. This may be my most favorite song, as a song. But the perfect recording has not yet been made. It’s got to be one of the most covered songs in history. I’ve tried many on, but none gets at what I want to hear. The k.d. lang version comes close, though. I know many others who prefer the Jeff Buckley version, which I hear more often in soundtracks (The West Wing comes to mind). But k.d. lang gets the words better. I’ve written about this song a few times before too. Here is a post about a misguided sermon based on the song. Here is a post about an adventure I had one night that got its title from the song. It’s probably my favorite post I’ve ever written.

Tell me about your favorite cover songs.

Volksmarch

When I was ten, I went to Berlin with my Girl Scout troop to participate in a “Volksmarch” (a communal hike with other Girl Scout troops from around Europe) near a West German military base. We were living in London at the time, so the trip was not quite as glamorous as it sounds, but it was the first time I’d ever gone to another country without my family.

We stayed in West Berlin. I remember being able to see the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, from my hotel window. I was stunned at how parts of the city looked as if they could have been bombed the week before. It was sobering. Berlin was busy and noisy and somber and damaged. But it was beautiful too. I saw Nefertiti’s head up close. I walked around one side of the Brandenburg Gate and snapped pictures of its capital. I bought a tiny bottle of a too-sweet jasmine perfume from a vendor in the park with a cart full of scents. I still have the bottle. It still smells like Berlin to me.

East Berlin was a different story. Our bus stopped at Checkpoint Charlie. And two soldiers got on to collect our passports and inspect the bus. It took over an hour while our guide spoke with the soldiers. While we waited, I sketched in my notebook the many layers of security around the Berlin wall: ditches and barbed wire and watchtowers with machine guns pointing out. And then there was the high wall itself. Finally, they let us go, but we did not get our passports back. This alarmed me, maybe because I’d been rereading The Diary of Anne Frank. But the bus was allowed to pass and we were assured that our passports would be returned on the way back. East Berlin was pristine and empty. It was all right angles and hospital corners and silence. I was surprised at how the cleanliness and order appealed to me but it also chilled me. I was relieved when we drove back through the checkpoint. I held my passport in my hand all the way back to the hotel and inside, I slipped a folded sheet of East German stamps that I’d bought with spare change from a vendor at the checkpoint. They all looked the same.

A little more than a decade later, I was in my Boston apartment watching the wall come down with my roommates. I could hardly believe it. We had received such dire warnings about how to behave when passing through the wall, about how anyone who wasn’t where she was supposed to be could be shot on sight. And now they were tearing it down. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who cried over the footage, staring at the coverage, half in disbelief, half in ecstasy. The two Berlins had been such stark contrasts to one another. Could they really be one city?

And here we are 20 years later. My students don’t remember a time when there were two Germanies. But I’m glad I remember that remarkable moment of a hand extending over the remains of the wall and pulling someone over. Ten years before it happened, it seemed an uncrossable line. The chasm between West and East was vast. It was amazing to me. I haven’t been back since that first trip, but I really want to go and see it with my own eyes. That trip to Berlin taught me more about the world than had ever expected. The wall coming down changed everything.

He throws the book at them

My being sick means I can continue to report on the head-shaking TV options. Last night I got from the same channel that brought you Rosary for Children it’s [wait for it]

BlBLEMAN!

“There will always be a Bib1eman. And Bib1eman will always be there!” (Is that a threat?)

The guide tells me that in this episode, which sadly I turned on towards the end, “Bib1eman takes on pompous villains of Darkness in astonishing battles while giving children a fantastic introduction to the lessons of the Bible.”

Here are some things you might wish to know about Bib1eman:

• Bib1eman appears to be a cyborg. From the future. “Don’t worry,” he says to an electronic voice in his spaceship(?) as he departs from a job well done. “We’re still going to do our jobs. As long as Jesu5 Chri5t is in control, we’re still gonna be there.”

• Bib1eman seems to like metal music from outer space.

• Oh, and the best part? He’s voiced by Wi11ie Aames.

That is all I’ve learned from Bib1eman. Or, as I prefer to call him, B1BLEMAN!

See for yourself: Bibleman gets suited up for the job:

This channel both fascinates and repulses me. It’s like a car wreck in that regard. I’m sure there will be more dispatches from the Chri5tian children’s television programming front.

I’d really hoped to be up and about today. You’d think 5 days in bed would be enough. But apparently not. Not only do I still have a fever and hacking cough, but this morning I woke up with my eyes glued shut. Conjunctivitis in both eyes? Why yes! It’s an added bonus of H1N1. My doctor neglected to mention this particular symptom. I did manage to get an appointment for AJ to get his H1N1 vaccine on Thursday, assuming they still have vaccine by then. We have to drive a half an hour away to do it, but it will make me feel better. Meanwhile, can you keep the lights down? My eyes hurt.

I can’t remember the last time I was sick for this long. Probably when I had mono my first year in grad school. And that was definitely worse. But with H1N1, I have new symptoms daily. It’s kind of an adventure. A very pathetic adventure. Maybe if I weren’t so sacrilegious, BIB1EMAN! would come rescue me from the attack of the killer germs. Too late now.

6 degrees

I tweeted D00ce today and she replied. Consequently, I’m feeling like a minor celebrity. A minor celebrity who hasn’t taken a shower today and is surviving on Theraflu, soft-boiled eggs and self-pity. A post I actually put some thought into precedes this one. Why don’t you go read that instead?

Victor/Victoria

I’ve been following with interest the Mississippi girl whose picture was banned from the school yearbook because she chose to wear a tuxedo. Today’s New York Times has an interesting take on schools and gendered dress codes. [subscription may be required].

One of the reasons I’m interested in this is that I spent a lot of time in high school, college and early grad school wearing men’s clothes. I wore my father’s old sweaters. I wore thrifted jackets several sizes too big for me. No one batted an eyelash. Why? Well, maybe it was the way I wore them. I wasn’t trying to be in drag. I just liked the clothes (well, there was probably more to it than that, but I’ll get to that in a minute). And, more importantly, I wasn’t gay. There were not other behaviors giving people pause. I wasn’t opposed to looking girly some of the time too. Not that that was anyone’s business but my own. And maybe that of my parents, who helped foot the wardrobe bill.

But does any of that make it more okay for me to wear men’s clothes to school than for Ceara Sturgis? No. Should the rules have been different for me than Ceara? Of course not. If the schools think they’re just critiquing wardrobe, they are kidding themselves. If there’s any doubt in whether the focus in the story is on the choice of tuxedo over a dress versus sexual preference – Ceara Sturgis is gay – check out the url for the link to the original USA Today story above. It’s coded “2009-10-18-yearbook-photo-lesbian_N.htm.”

If anything, I should have had the book thrown at me long before Ceara. I wore men’s clothes to school, where, according one reason cited in the Times story for gender-based dress codes, they could have been potentially distracting. Ceara only wore her tuxedo in her yearbook photo, where viewing of a girl in a tux was entirely optional and other students may not even have been present. What could be distracting about that?

Despite all this, I’m not opposed to dress codes. I think they can be helpful. For one thing, it actually may help kids learn that dressing for work is not the same as dressing for other activities. Not a bad lesson and, if my college students are any indication, one that quite a few people need to learn. The last high school I went to had some pretty strict dress codes and for some pretty good reasons. It was a huge school and there were gang problems to monitor. No hats or sunglasses inside, no bandannas. But there were not, at least to my recollection, a lot of other rules. Sweatpants and pajamas were not forbidden. And in fact, tons of people wore sweats to school. This surprised me, because at the generally more relaxed high school I’d attended for sophomore year, the one that had open campus, we weren’t allowed to wear sweatpants. Athletic clothes were for sports, not for school. I find it easier to carry the no sweatpants rule into the realm of gender differentiation than the gang colors rules – athletic clothes: athletes as boy clothes: boys as girl clothes:girls. Unless you think of gay students as a gang (which may, in fact, be the case). But the gay students I knew in high school thought of themselves as the opposite of a gang. They were mostly loner outcasts. They were not too at risk for their fashion choices being adopted by the masses.

Trying to put a gender policy in place is, I think, risky. Where do you draw the line? Does it make a difference why the student is cross-dressing? Does it matter if the student is intentionally trying to be disruptive? It should. But it also, I think, can’t. Is there be a difference between the transgender teen boy who wears a skirt to school and the boy who wears a skirt to school to cause trouble? Yes, but you can’t treat them differently under the rules. It’s really not fair. You either ban skirts on boys or you don’t. If the boy is wearing the skirt to cause trouble, chances are you can nail him on some other behavior, but leave the dress code alone. If the boy is distracting merely by wearing a skirt and not by his behavior, chances are his fellow students will get over it fairly quickly. You may have one distracted English class, but teachers, it’s just not that unusual anymore. By the time they’ve moved on to history, it will be old news.

Letting dress codes accommodate individuals is not caving to the left. It’s an opportunity to teach our kids about tolerance. A boy wearing a skirt to school is taking a huge personal risk, but it’s his risk to take. Maybe we need to let the rest of our kids take the risk along with him. In my experience, high school students tend to be more tolerant of one another than those making the rules for them. Do you really want to send the message to students that they need to pretend to be who their not? They’ll either find a way in the world that refutes that, or they’ll learn that the hard way. Why make it a rule?

Most importantly, though, we need to be really careful to keep rules about dress and not about sexuality. For one thing, there are lots of different reasons why kids might crossdress. For me, it was partly about looking different. My open campus high school practically had a uniform, even though it wasn’t spelled out in any formal dress code, and I’d felt really confined by it. When I moved into the bigger school, I experimented more and ended up with a lot of men’s clothes in my closet. Why men’s clothes? I’m not sure I could have articulated it at the time, but looking back I can tell you that it was because I was uncomfortable with taking on the role of “girl.” I didn’t like feeling like I had to choose between being pretty and being smart. But I cared a lot more about being smart. Men’s clothes hid my curves, which I developed late and had not yet come to terms with. They also, in being a little too big for me, made me feel smaller, less visible. If my school had decided to ban them, I would have felt stripped of my armor. As if high schoolers don’t feel vulnerable enough. Gay students are not the only ones who live in fear of being outed.

I seriously considered wearing a tux to my graduation dance. My date, who was gay, would not have minded in the least. I had envied D, the senior at my previous high school who’d worn one to prom. She wasn’t gay either. She just looked fabulous in a tux and she had the dramatic personality to carry it off. And no, her boyfriend did not wear a dress, although he took a lot of ribbing about it when word got out. But I didn’t think I was confident enough to pull it off, nor did I think I’d look anywhere as fabulous in a tux as D did. I ended up buying a black dress that I knew I’d be able to wear for orchestra performances in college. But I always felt like I’d caved in to convention.

I am generally in favor of dress codes to a point, as long as they’re not full of tiny, nitpicky rules. A uniform is fine. So is no uniform with a few key, logical guidelines. I am not, however, in favor of separate gender codes. At this point in our history, given the way we dress, it doesn’t make a lot of sense and any restrictions in this area infringe too greatly on personal freedom. I do think disruptions in the classroom need to be minimized – it’s a school, after all, not a Fashion Week runway. There is a difference between a boy wearing a skirt and a boy wearing stilletto heels and a boa. If the clothes would be okay if a girl wore them, then it should be okay for boys to wear them too (and vice versa). If the clothes would be outré for anyone, then ban them, and specifically.

Also, given that the wardrobe restrictions are supposedly to prevent distractions and student safety in the classroom, then it should not matter if a girl is wearing a tuxedo in her yearbook photo. Ceara Sturgis found a way around this restriction: her mother took out a full page ad in the yearbook to run Ceara’s photo in a tuxedo.

Part of me can’t believe this is still such an issue 25 years after I graduated from high school. Part of me knows it’s not going away any time soon. In the mean time, I’m glad Ceara’s gotten one thing out of high school – she’s learned to stand up for what’s important to her. That’s probably more valuable than just about anything on her transcript. Good luck to her.