Professor in apron
If not for the hurriedly Googled, copy-pasted, and printed-out greeting posted on the glass door of the faculty office, I would not have known that the world was celebrating Teacher’s Day last Wednesday. That day, I looked more like a cleaning hand than a teacher and was proud of it.
I was in my unofficial printmaking class “uniform” of black shirt and apron to keep my clothes from being stained by oil-based inks we have been using to make editions of fine prints using our newly purchased etching presses.
This always happens to our students who complain that their official school uniform still gets ink stains as the apron only protects the front and not the back. Printmaking, like painting and many other subjects in fine arts, is messy and even the most control freak artist could not avoid getting his clothes dirty in the middle of studio work.
I recall once bringing my students to the little forest above our building for a little outdoor painting. But seeing them struggle to climb the unpaved road in their heeled shoes and uniforms while carrying easels and paint boxes, I regretted the exercise.
It’s silly why art students have to wear uniforms. I told my artist friends abroad, many of them also professors in universities, and they were even shocked to know that college students in the Philippines, regardless of whether they are taking up art or not, wear uniforms.
Yet it seemed that in the University of San Carlos teachers too—even those of us in the fine arts department—will soon have to wear the required uniform, most probably polo barong, slacks, and black leather shoes.
I will no longer be able to bike to school in my sweat-free, fast-drying spandex jersey, black taffeta trousers (whose light, slippery fabric makes it hard for paint to cling), and sneakers (good for walking the steep roads on the way to our hilltop building), which has been my favorite school getup, aside from the usual jeans and t-shirt.
And in the midst of the corporate uniformity that is getting to be the official look of the educational machinery, going casual becomes a brave fashion statement. It is an assertion of academic freedom and most especially for the design community in our college, an assertion of the more basic freedom of expression.
Why, in the first place, would the school offer courses like painting, film, and fashion design but prevent students from coming to school in ripped jeans, paint-stained shirts, or sandals that some priest administrators are even caught wearing (the type that closely resembles Christ’s). Our standards of decency, which seem to be stuck in midcentury charm school, defy the multicultural character of today’s society. We are in the Age of Lady Gaga but school authorities want students to look like they’re all heading to the boardroom or the confession box.
Why, in spite of the Society of the Divine Word’s rethinking of the Incarnation as expressed in individuality and cultural diversity, and Mission being the Church’s attempt to encounter this revelation in non-Christian cultures, does the school still not allow male students to sport long hair or a beard like Christ, wear earrings, or dreadlocks (perhaps even if the boy is actually Jamaican), and more recently, to carry a lady’s bag. I’d rather not mention other cases of homophobia at the school gates.
A fellow teacher, an architect who had been my professor in art history when I was still an undergrad, insists on coming to school in his now trademark mane, shorts and sandals. When we were in his class, he sometimes arrived in our classroom on the fourth floor with his road bike, which he would park near the door.
One student recently overheard him argue with a guard who would not let him in because he was wearing shorts. In Cebuano, he told the guard something like: “Are you saying that my students are being shortchanged in learning just because I wear shorts?”
To make a long story short, he got his way. And personally, I think he is the best teacher of art history in our college so it would be stupid for the school to get rid of him just because of his looks.
But more than the uniform policy, there are other more serious conditions in the university these days that get in the way of teaching. It is not widely known, for example, that except for senior ones, permanent instructors in USC actually don’t get summer pay. As a result, some of the best young minds in the faculty have left for greener pastures abroad or the corporate world. More plan to go soon.
Others are bravely joining the newly formed College Faculty Independent Union, which emerged out of years of frustration with the present setup of negotiations under the Labor Management Council. Empowered by the union, the teachers can now ask for more than promises and false assurances. This new development makes this year’s Teacher’s Day a cause for celebration. And although there are no cocktail parties to attend to in barong, I’m glad to be able to wear my apron like my students. Cheers!
