I’m standing in line to talk to the ninth grade guidance counselor at Bleeding Crown of Thorns Catholic Girls High School. Miss Guidance.
It’s new parents night at Bleeding Crown of Thorns.
Miss Guidance looks young. Blonde hair, hip clothes, makeup – a contrast to the nuns-in-street clothes look of most of the school administrators. In her talk before the entire assembly, she referred repeatedly the students as “my girls”.
We haven’t yet decided where Alani will go to school. It’s down to two choices: 1) Bleeding Crown of Thorns, or 2) Fancy Wasp Prep School. Alani prefers Fancy Prep. She’s articulated many thoughtful reasons for her preference, including small classes, top-notch teachers, and the theater program. I suspect, however, that her choice is 90% driven by two factors: 1) boys, and 2) uniforms.
The Catholic school is all girls. Alani is 13, and dreads four years on a boy-less desert island. She also loves clothes, fingernail polish and shoes. She has a pair of Timberland women’s boots that get her compliments wherever she goes: black suede, up to just below the knee, with extensive grommets and laces. A grown woman once yelled out “That’s what I’m talking about!” when Alani walked by in those boots.
I realize, waiting to talk to Miss Guidance, that Alani and two of her friends are standing in the same line. I step aside when we reach the front of the line, curious to hear what the girls will ask.
They don’t ask about AP science courses.
Alani’s friend Katrina asks about the dress code. Miss Guidance describes the permitted style of white blouse. She draws a demure little curve below her neck, describing the required collar shape for the blouse. Plaid uniform skirts, she says, with a different plaid for each class. No pants under the skirts. Leggings yes, pants no.
“No heels,” Miss Guidance says. “Flats or tennis shoes only.” She zeroes in on Alani’s Timberland boots. “You couldn’t wear those,” she says.
I suddenly don’t like her. She seems more Mean Girl than kindly guidance counselor.
When it is Alani’s turn to ask a question, she displays her fingernails. She’s painted each nail with little Swedish flags – a yellow cross on a blue field. (Alani is rooting for the Swedish Olympic ice hockey team, because its full of players from her beloved Detroit Red Wings).
“What about this?” Alani asks, thrusting her Swedish flags toward Miss Guidance.
Miss Guidance looks. She says – grudgingly, it seems to me – that Alani’s fingernails would be permitted.