Mostly remember dress code violations from school

I was working at a place a few years ago when, one day, the manager was yelling, sending someone home to change clothes.

“You are dressed totally inappropriately. Go home now and change clothes,” Mr. Manager commanded to the female staff member.

I hadn’t heard or seen someone getting sent home like that since junior high school.

Yeah, junior high.

I don’t know when or why this “middle school” stuff started.

I come from a time when kids got sent home for skirts that were too short or hair that was too long.

Such things were handled by the school’s vice principal, Vice Principal Oswald.

I saw Mr. Oswald send my buddy Catfish home one day.

Catfish and I were in the cafeteria having lunch when, seemingly out of nowhere, there was Mr. Oswald looming over us.

“Boy, your hair’s too long. You need to go get a haircut,” Oswald said to Catfish.

My dad wouldn’t let me grow my hair as long as Catfish’s.

“My hair’s not too long…” Catfish started to say. Before he could finish his sentence, Oswald had him by the earlobe and was yanking Catfish out of his chair.

“BOY, THIS IS AN EARLOBE, YOUR HAIR DOESN’T GO BELOW IT AT THIS SCHOOL,” Oswald yelled.

And the man, with Catfish’s earlobe in hand, escorted Catfish to the front door of the school.

One day, it was my turn to come face-to-face with the vice principal.

At the end of a class the teacher told me I was to report to Oswald.

There was nothing to do but march to the man’s office.

“Sit down, boy,” he said as I walked in, motioning to the chair in front of his desk.

“I hear you have a slingshot in your locker, that you’ve been shooting at cars and houses on your way to school,” Oswald said.

One thing that gets my blood pressure up is being accused of something I did not do.

“No sir, my slingshot is on my dresser at home. It’s a Wham-O. One I bought at Sears. It’s yellow, has a giant rubber band for a…,”

“Let’s walk to your locker,” Oswald interrupted.

In a few moments we were in front of my locker and I was spinning the little knob for the combination.

The locker door opened.

Just books and papers.

I turned and looked Mr. Oswald in the eye.

“I got a call reporting you having a slingshot on your way to school. Why do you have a slingshot?” Oswald said.

“I like to shoot at bottles and stuff when I go camping. I like to lay out in the field across from my house and shoot rocks straight up in the sky and see if they land near me. I think the closest landing I’ve ever gotten was about 20 feet away,” I said.

Oswald stared at me for a few moments.

“Boy, have you ever thought what would happen if your slinghot rock landed on your head or in your eye?” Oswald said.

I paused and thought about it.

“No sir,” I said.

“Close your locker and get back to class,” Oswald said.

He turned and walked down the hall.

No “Have a nice day” or anything.

That afternoon I went home, got my slingshot, went over to the field and shot some more rocks straight up in the air.

And you know, I never did get hit in the head.

Grant McGee writes for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact him:

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