First Day Shoes

They must radiate professionalism but be reasonably priced. They must match any of the skirts I grab indiscriminately from the dark closet in the wee hours of the morning.  They must slip on easily without the aid of complicated straps, buckles, or zippers. They must be comfortable enough for extended periods of standing and walking. But most of all, Teacher Shoes must make the right noise.

Shoes by Unlisted

On the first day of school, the authoritative clicking of my shoes across newly buffed linoleum floors must be of just the right timbre to give me authenticity. I must sound like a teacher in order to feel like a teacher. The soundtrack of my heels prompts me to stand straight, square my shoulders and glare threateningly when necessary. Their echoes down the hallway are my auditory equivalent of wire-rimmed glasses and a bun.

The noise must also immediately establish to the students who is in charge. As I walk around the classroom, weaving between students’ desks, elaborating on the finer points of school rules, my shoes bark, “I [click] am [click] the [click] teacher [click].”

Click-clacks reverberating off the poster-covered walls must also delineate how the students are to behave. Don’t you dare pinch the girl next to you in the vicinity of shoes that sound like this.  Paper throwing will not occur in the class of a woman whose heels pierce the air with such certainty. And you can just forget about talking back when feet like these are within earshot.

Later in the school year, I am able to pull out shoes whose whisper invites students to grow as people and as intellectuals and to share in decision-making, but for the start of the school year, the best are those whose repertoire is simply: Get to work.  [Click].  Now.  [Click].

Day one down, and you can be sure I'm wearing those shoes again tomorrow!