Pedal Pusher Picture Day

In 3rd grade, I wore some capris to school for the very first time; they were hand-me-downs from my cousin. (Of course, back then we called them “pedal pushers”.) As fate would have it, it happened to be Picture Day, the day I wore those pedal pushers. Not understanding that I was supposed to wear them with either anklets, bobby socks, or nothing besides flip-flops; I somehow managed to leave the house without Mama noticing that I had kicked off my flip-flops and pulled up really high fuzzy brown knee socks over the bottom of my red pedal pushers, so my legs wouldn’t get cold. “What kind of mother sends me to school with such high-water trousers?” I wondered.

Now that my legs had been made warm, I decided my Sunday-best black penny loafers would be the perfect touch; so I stole (ahem, BORROWED) a couple of shiny new pennies I shook out of my big brother’s piggy bank, to insert into the opening in the tops of my loafers. Boy, I sure had to shake out a lot of pennies before I found some shiny ones! Why does my brother have such dirty pennies? I knew I should have picked up the ones that fell onto the floor and retrieved the rascals that rolled under his bed. (But, honestly, I intended to drop them all back into the piggy bank after school—no time to mess with it, now.)

Anyway, that turned out to be the very first class picture where the photographer asked little ol’ ME to hold the class sign, which displayed the teacher’s name and our grade! At the time, I felt it was a great honor. But looking back, I suspect he did it on purpose, because I looked so stupid! He kept chuckling as he positioned me in the front row and darn near guffawed as he handed me the sign.

I suspect he and Mrs. Gray were in cahoots because she was probably still mad at me, at the time, for accidentally calling her “Fat” instead of “Ma’am”. (But, that's another story.) Why, just the other day I was rushing down the hall in a hurry to play jacks with the girls at recess, when Mrs. Gray stopped me from running. That's all fine and dandy, but rather than let me be on my urgent way, she decided to use my shoulder for an arm rest while she took her merry time finishing a conversation with another teacher. I couldn’t move; I had no choice but to stand there, as her human arm-rest. The girls were on "Foursies" by the time I managed to make my escape to the school yard! (Yep, Mrs. Gray was obviously not one to forgive and forget.)

Long story short, when the picture was distributed for us to take home to our parents, there I was right smack in the middle of the front row, with those brown fuzzy knee socks ridiculously pulled up over the leg edges of my pedal pushers—looking proud as punch.

My Mama was mortified when she saw it; realizing that every parent would wonder, “Why in the world did Mrs. Bowen dress that poor, sad child like that?” Exasperated, Mama asked me, “What possessed you to put on your Daddy’s old brown socks? Did you think you were wearing colonial men’s knickerbockers, or what?”

Now, to be fair, until that very moment, I hadn’t realized they were Daddy’s socks. This was news to me! I was getting ready to reason with her, “Is it MY fault they were in the top of the laundry basket?" But, before I could make my defense, her chastisement was interrupted by a blood-curdling shriek from my big brother Billy's bedroom: “WHO took my pennies?"

(After that, I was a grown woman before I ever wore capris aka pedal pushers, again; and to this day I still don’t particularly like them. Who's bright idea was it to design something so high-water all your legs aren’t covered? Make a decision, Designer... Go shorts, go pants, or go home!)