AdvanceBlog

A few years back, it was quite a fashion statement to wear Al Wissam jackets in urban areas.  These leather winter coats had the fashion distinction of uniquely hand-stitched depictions all over.  Some of those depictions were of local landmarks, magazine covers and scenes from popular movies.

One of the most popular Wissam jackets when I was a principal depicted scenes from the 1980’s movie Scarface featuring Al Pacino. Scarface holds cult status in urban communities.  Its violence, drug use and heavy profanity appeals to tough guys everywhere.  While the movie has it fans and Al Wissam jackets posses artistic flair, the merging of the two onto the body of a six year old was enough to cause this administrator great alarm.

For the sake of privacy, we’ll call this adorable first grader, Bobby.  Bobby was the only child of an overworked, young single mother.  In many ways, it appeared that as if her happiness and aspirations for life was all channeled into Bobby.  Bobby had worn a blue winter coat with sleeves a tad too long that zipped up just below his nose.  During recess, it was fairly common to see those blue sleeves flapping about in pursuit of his classmates.  Yet on the first Monday following Christmas break, Bobby came to school with a Scarface Al Wissam jacket.

As the students entered the main hallway, I noticed some fifth graders in a circle gawking over something.  Within that circle was Bobby, basking in the praise of his cool jacket.  He was modeling the front and back artwork for the fifth graders.  When I joined the group, I came face to face with a depiction of Tony Montana (Scarface) shooting a gun.  I have seen the movie and recognized the movie’s quotes that the fifth graders were reciting.  Although I admired the craftmanship needed to design such a coat it; under no circumstances did I believe a coat with that type of depiction is appropriate for a child.

I joined Bobby for dismissal that day and invited his mother inside.  After some small talk, I brought up Bobby’s jacket.  His mother asked did I like it and shared the cost of it.  She elaborated that Bobby had asked for it and she wanted the best for her son.  I agreed that it was a distinctive coat but shared reservations about the image on the coat.  I told her about the fifth graders, who while admiring the coat were reciting the line from the movie when Tony Montana shoots his enormous gun.  She laughed and said she’s seen the movie many times.  I shared that I had seen it also, but zeroed on the fact that my parents would not let me see the movie as a child.  My parents believed that a movie about a violent drug-dealer was too much for my young mind.

I attempted to rationalize with Bobby’s mom by saying that in wanting the best for her child, she may have indirectly done him a disservice by valuing that particular coat.  She really thought I was giving her a hard time and angrily retorted: “you goin’ to kick him out over a coat?”  To which I responded, “no, but I am asking you to let him wear his blue coat to school.”  She was pensive.  My next approach worked better.  I inferred that how do we know those big kids were not plotting on taking Bobby’s coat?  I do not believe that they were but I so felt strongly against that image being glorified in our school that I was hoping for something short of using the policy manual.  She never expressed an understanding for my reservations but the threat of theft prompted her to consent.

The next day, Bobby asked me why I was playa-hating on his coat?  At that moment I was further convinced that the work of educators has to go much farther than the classroom.  I also felt a sense of defeat.  Yes, I had gotten Bobby’s mother to not send him to school with it – but the true lesson of not allowing our children to wear adult themed garments was lost.  So in addition to being Bobby’s principal, I was a man with nothing more to do than playa-hate on a six year old with an expensive jacket – Lord, have mercy…