Don we now our uniforms


  • Palm Coast Observer
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It’s been a while since we talked uniforms. But at least some parents haven’t forgotten. Here’s what Alicha Sweeney Willis said on our Facebook page recently:

“I know so many people are against the uniform policy this year, but I just wanted to let everybody know that, thanks to Old Navy and their sale, I just got five polos and five pairs of uniform shorts for $65 for each child. Voila! All done shopping for clothes. Considering jeans are going to be allowed and it's not cold until November, those will wait. That was easy!”

Alicha, if you can find a way to get your kids to put their clothes into the hamper, rather than wadded up in the corner, please let me know.

I brought my kids to their first day at Bunnell Elementary School on Thursday, and as I was walking through hallways, it didn’t seem that any students were bothered by the polo shirts. It appeared more orderly than usual, despite the many shades of green and blue and the lack of uniformity in the so-called uniforms.

In that brief encounter, although I’ve been on the fence about uniforms, I’ve come to believe that at least at the elementary level, they could help students to focus on what really matters, like hairdos and backpacks. And whatever the teacher is carrying on about.

Lawn time coming

As I was getting ready to mow the lawn the other day, my 6-year-old son asked if he could help. So, we stood side-by-side, all four hands clutching the start lever. After about a row and a half, he paused for a water break, and I thought he was out for the count. But he jumped right back in and helped me push.

We were doing so well that a landscaping truck drove slowly by and didn’t even stop. I usually judge how well I’m doing with lawn maintenance by how many times during the month I get approached by a startup mowing service.

Up and down we went, striping the yard with the mower. We stopped every so often to sprinkle ant killer on some disturbingly large mounds.

Every time I took my hand off the handle bar to maneuver a turn, I noticed that his hands slid to the center of the bar, and I had to push them back in place, as if I were sliding the carriage return bar on a typewriter at the end of every line.

Finally, we finished, and I eased the mower into the garage and gave him a high-five. It was a satisfying moment as a father: I could tell he was pleased at having put in a hard day’s work.

In fact, I was in a good mood for quite a while — until I found a business card in my mailbox for another lawn care company. OK, I get the hint, whoever you are: Next week I’ll break out the weed whacker!

 

 

 

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