The school shoes challenge
For all the minimalist parents out there: do you get a thrill out buying a single pair of school shoes that last a full year? #schoolshoeschallenge
Shiny, black patent leather mary janes tucked top to tail in a child’s shoe box, covered by a sheet of white tissue, are pure potential energy. I took my daughters school shoe shopping early in August to beat the rush. Olive who is starting reception, the ultimate milestone marking the passing from toddler to big girl, was excited by all the frills: flowers, unicorns and bows.
Some shoes now have toys hidden inside a secret compartment within the heel. They are like spy shoes to carry stickers, trinkets and important drawings outside the school gates undetected. Others have the still ubiquitous Elsa and Anna hidden on the interior souls. All of which is naughty corporate behaviour and shameless interference from the perspective of the parent who is attempting to get the most robust pair of shoes. I want them a touch too big so they might possibly last till the end of school. It’s the zero waste game. Our successful runs have ended on the last day of school in late July with Velcro straps that are no longer sticky and toes with leather visibly worn thin.
To me, these are signs of success. We’ve managed to make it whole year in a single pair of shoes that are now shot - these could not be passed on. The rubber has evaporated in the many trips back and forth to the school. It’s the feeling you used to have when you spent all your Euros cash before getting on a flight back from Amsterdam. Or getting through all the food in the fridge exactly on the morning of a grocery delivery. That giddy feeling of zero wastage is a modern feeling of success. The feeling of arriving perfectly at zero at the end of the game.
I’ve heard that some other children have more than one pair of school shoes, but that ruins the game. Anyone can get by with two pair of school shoes.
In borrowed sockettes pulled halfway up her calves bruised from racing her big sister up the stairs, the shoe saleswoman gently velcros the straps and Olive stands up to test the size. The first step in shoes that may hold her feet the entire time she is learning to read. A whole era of her life, when she will carry her first school lunch tray, perfectly writing her full name in rainbow markers, and make her first friends.
School shoes, unlike other parts of the set UK school uniform which may carry over to the next school year, are the one clear thing that needs to be bought new at the beginning of a new school year. Rather than a whole wardrobe of back-to-school clothing that is encouraged in the US, I only need to buy one perfect pair of school schools. The purchase feels like ticking off the essential back-to-school parental duty, satisfying because it’s one concrete thing.
As much as I get a high out of the perfect school shoe purchase, I also have a love letter to the UK school uniform that’s both minimal and egalitarian. The sturdy grey wrinkle free dress that covers a white collared polo pulled together by a burgundy cardigan. Thick grey tights that are virtually indestructible; they’re nearly leggings. It can be worn over and over and looks smart without looking tired on the third day running if lunch has not been spilled. The pieces can be purchased at every price point from the local supermarket to a top department store. In UK primary schools, they tend to run second hand sales where you can pick-up most pieces for a pound. How great is that? It’s un-American.
Some would say that wearing your own clothes is a symbol of expression and a way to locate your tribe. But certainly the mental space that not having to consider what you’re wearing or comparing to other peers must be a relief and allow kids to focus on other useful and frivolous things. As a parent, I appreciate not having to discuss the options each morning or pressure to buy expensive school gear only to have it lost.
Let’s just focus on the perfect school shoes. That’s all you need. This is an area where the UK is getting it right.