By Amelia Weber

Amelia Weber is vocal director at Platteville High School. She began her teaching career in September of 2004.

Being a new teacher can be incredibly hard on your wardrobe. From the first day of your new job, you’ve been warned about your appearance by your administrator: "Please dress professionally. Be sure and distinguish yourself from the kids." You may have even gone on that enlightening “new job shopping trip” to boost your supply of teacher duds. Yet I can tell you from firsthand experience that no matter how often I sport a suit and don my high heels, I am still mistaken for a student on a regular basis.

I have tried literally everything to look more mature. I wear my school ID badge at all times, and constantly check my posture to make sure I appear commanding. Despite the backache, I try to wear heels as much as possible, thinking that their clicking in the halls will give me that "teacher sound" that sends wary students rushing to class. Inevitably, all my efforts are defeated in one fell swoop the moment a parent at a volleyball game says, “Dear, could you tell me where to find a teacher?” I once spent an entire day warming up and accompanying students at solo and ensemble festival, only to be asked by a door monitor if I was waiting for my accompanist!

Is it a blessing to be young? I’m excited about the future that my job holds and love the idea of building a choral program with only my bare hands and a lot of chocolate. As a second-generation teacher, with two parents who have recently retired from education, I can say that I am not yet overwhelmingly frustrated with the state of education in my community, my state, and my country. Call me naïve and hopeful, but I’m still young enough to think that I can really change the world by teaching. Maybe this naiveté has somehow crept into my appearance and permanently labeled me as an adolescent.

Short of theater makeup, how is a young-looking teacher supposed to acquire an air of experience and maturity? I have taken the first step and given up shopping in stores I frequented as a college student, for fear I would purchase something one of my students already owns. The horror! As a co-ed who meandered to class in sweats, glasses, and a messy ponytail, I’ve made a firm commitment to put some effort into my daily hair and makeup regimen. Despite this good faith effort, I still catch myself longing to conduct my choirs in comfort…say pajama pants and flip flops…but know that it could ruin the adult image I’m trying so hard to construct.

Even on a good day, when I’m feeling particularly worldly and wise, my veteran co-workers never fail to remind me that as a newbie, I’m stuck on “double-super-secret-probation” until they tell me otherwise. I’ve heard everything from "young pup," to "raise your hand if you weren’t born before the Watergate scandal" to the ever-popular "I could be your mother." Even more ruthless than their comments is the undeniable fact that in the continuous effort to command respect in the classroom, VETERAN TEACHER + JEANS AND POLO still trumps NEW TEACHER + SMARTLY TAILORED SUIT. There is no doubt about it, young comrades…we must dress the part or we don’t stand a Wal-Mart’s chance in Armani!

A few short weeks into my first year, it occurred to me that "adult" is not the appearance, but the attitude. Since the blue jeans and polo shirts of Casual Friday made me completely unrecognizable as a teacher, I decided I must instead hone my attitude. As I straightened my classroom, sharpened my vocabulary and practiced my harshest teacher glare, I set my sights on a new goal that continues to this day. I would like to not be mistaken for a student more than once a month. Every time I meet a new parent, formally greet a student, and give the introduction at a concert, I am increasing my chances of achieving this goal.

Fortunately, this embarrassing case of mistaken identity does occasionally have a silver lining. For every adult that has called me a teen, there is at least one student who has assumed my age to be greater than it actually is! It wasn’t until October of my first teaching job that one of my singers finally asked, “Miss Weber, how old are you”? When, at the time, I replied “Twenty-two,” my students were truly shocked. One even commented, “My sister is older than you, and she’s still in college!”

Yes, being a young teacher while portraying an image of experience is a daily struggle, but move over Miss Congeniality, and make room for Miss Maturity!

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Posted May 2, 2006