Is This Still In Style?

I have spent the last several months compiling the mountains of paperwork needed to get accepted into the Greenville College Master’s in Teaching program. I have sent in college transcripts, visited the campus, filled out piles of forms, had background checks done, been fingerprinted and paid a lot of money to take the state skills test. While doing all this, I was also going through the tedious process of becoming certified to be a substitute teacher. Which means I filled out piles of paperwork, sent in my college transcript, had background checks done, got fingerprinted, and paid a lot of money to file each piece of paperwork. Almost every task I had to do for the college, I also had to do for my substitute certification. However, no task was transferable to the other. I had to do everything twice and I had to PAY for everything twice. Someone has made a lot of money. However, it is finally behind me. I started my classes this week and I am now certified as a substitute teacher. In fact, my first assignment is in my old high school tomorrow morning.

I have mixed feelings about this. I am very excited to report to my first assignment tomorrow, but have apprehensions as well. Although I am an adult (and have been one for several years now), I still feel like a kid when I come into the presence of an old authority figure. I am worried that my forty year old mind will revert back to being fifteen years old if I run into Mr. Frakes in the hallway. Honestly, I don’t even know if he would remember me. I never talked much in his classes. Come to think of it, I wasn’t usually even awake in his classes. Today, I love history and understand the important place it has in our education. Twenty years ago, I couldn’t think of a more boring subject. It would probably be better if he didn’t remember me, than for his mind to recall how much of his class I snored through.

I told my daughter that I was a little nervous about going back to my old school and she asked me a question I still don’t have an answer to.

“What are you going to wear?”

I hadn’t considered this. It was probably the furthest thing from my mind. I had no idea what I was going to wear. I still don’t even after thinking about it. Anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that fashion is nowhere near the top of my list of priorities. However, I have been told my many people that I probably need to move it a little higher.

I can’t help it. I have never really cared that much about what I looked like. Other than going out with a girl for the first time and the occasional wedding or big event, I never even think about it. Of course, you can probably tell that when you look at me. I don’t do anything fancy with my hair, I don’t buy expensive clothes, I don’t wear any jewelry, and I can get ready in the morning in less than 15 minutes. I don’t look like a slob, but I don’t really dress up either.

I have to admit that I do look and dress better than I did at the beginning of my life. When I was very young, I dressed the way I did because that is how my mother dressed me. No one can be blamed or credited during that period, but when I got a little older and started trying to find my style, I preferred the slovenly look.

I, like many teens, liked the ripped jeans. Today, most youth can buy them that way, but in the eighties, we usually had to rip them up ourselves, which does not settle well with parents who just spent hard-earned money to clothe their children. Right after high school, I developed a liking for flannel shirts. This was not really a fashion statement, but a lifestyle choice. Flannel was easy. I never had to look at which one I was putting on. It goes with just about anything. I could just randomly pull one out of the closet and run out the door.

Unfortunately, I had one flannel I really took a liking to. I used it like a jacket and wore it over whatever I had on that day, so I had it on often. It was long-sleeved, yellow and had black stripes. I loved that shirt. My friends gave me so much grief over it, I had to wear it more just to irritate them. I must have worn it for a long time because years later my wife tried to destroy it. If I had not been the one burning the trash that day, it would have been lost. After that, I had to hide it to keep it safe and only wear it on special occasions.

Today, I own several pairs of black denim jeans and lots of t-shirts. I do have several nice pull-over shirts with collars and I even own about a half-dozen suits for when I have to preach, but I try not to wear them even then. So, I guess my wardrobe is limited.

Limited wardrobe or not, I do need to look presentable tomorrow. I definitely need to go through my clothes and decide tonight, rather than just throwing something on in the morning. I might even wear slacks instead of my black denim. I should call my mother to find out what color slacks would go best with yellow flannel. I don’t want to clash.