I'm going to be very direct about this—getting my children dressed for school in the morning has become a nightmare, and I would like the American educational establishment to do something about it.
The problem is particularly acute with my daughters, who are 7 and 5 and have developed rather strong opinions about what constitutes acceptable school attire. I don't object to the opinions themselves. To be honest, I'd be terribly disappointed to discover I'd raised two bland little creatures without any aesthetic convictions. Unfortunately, though, their convictions bear almost no resemblance to my own—so you can imagine how much of an issue this whole getting dressed thing is.
At the moment, both girls are devoted to oversized sweaters and baggy pants, a fashion I despise and don't understand. Apparently, this is what passes for cool in elementary school, and so every morning begins with negotiations between what I consider appropriate for school and what their classmates have collectively decided is fashionable.
Then comes the sweater question.
New York weather swings 20 degrees in half a day while school buildings appear to operate according to their own mysterious meteorological systems. The sensible solution would be to wear a shirt and bring a sweater along, except that carrying said sweater to school is apparently a social offense and something my kids cannot be bothered with. So I must either scream and insist they wear one or smuggle it into their backpacks and hope they won't take it out before the car starts moving.
Jackets, apparently, are an even greater affront to their dignity, at least until they step outside and discover that their mother was, once again, right. In case you were wondering, they won't ever admit that lest they'd be forced to take a coat the next day so they usually just look at me, walk back indoors and then come out with a jacket on.
And, we haven't even discussed hair or shoes, which are deserving of their own essays, or the fact that my younger sons, who couldn't ordinarily distinguish between a sweatshirt and a potato sack, have noticed that their sisters are exercising constitutional rights and demand the same privileges.
Meanwhile, lunches need packing, teeth need brushing, homework needs locating and I may have a conference call beginning in seven minutes.
Which brings me to...Italy.
Yes, that's a random leap, but I promise there's a method to my mental madness.
I hesitate to borrow educational wisdom from a country whose students have lately been making headlines for rather less admirable activities, but on this particular matter, the Italians understood something fundamental about childhood.
Throughout my elementary school years in Milan, we wore grembiuli, literally "aprons," although the word hardly does justice to these magnificent instruments of domestic peace.
The boys wore black smock-like jackets, leaving them only the relatively uncomplicated decision of which pants to wear. Girls wore long white tunics with collars, rather like miniature inhabitants of The Handmaid's Tale, except considerably happier and with better prospects.
You could wear practically anything underneath. Nobody cared because nobody could see it. The only meaningful sartorial decision concerned your shoes.
And if you forgot your grembiule at home (you wouldn't), the school would provide a revolting spare that had apparently survived several generations of Italian children, and you would wear it without discussion.
Imagine the possibilities.
I firmly believe universal school uniforms could reduce America's divorce rate, if only by eliminating the morning spectacle of one parent losing patience with a child while the other helpfully suggests a different outfit.
Children would arrive at school without having spent breakfast resenting their mothers, and mothers might arrive at work without having already endured an emotional breakdown.
Private schools in the U.S. that require uniforms have understood this for years. Why must the rest of us suffer?
I am not demanding that America adopt Italian educational philosophy wholesale but I am asking for one modest concession.
Please make my children wear the same thing every day.
Or, failing that, could somebody at least impose a uniform at their little suburban New York school?
I'll even buy the spare grembiuli.