About a month into being a real teacher, I faced two facts: one, all of the cute professional skirts and dresses I had purchased in anticipation of wearing "teacher clothes" were worthless. I simply can't teach without pockets. Two, I had lost enough weight since starting teach for america (from the deadly combination of no time to eat and being on my feet for hours at a time) that the few pairs of nice pants I rotated every day were requiring an ever higher rate of hitches-per-class-period (HPCPs). I Hate buying pants. I sought out oldnavy.com late one weeknight and found a pair that looked promising. I ordered four pairs in three colors (black, khaki, gray) in two sizes (my old size and one smaller), figuring I would return whatever didn't work. The smaller two in black and khaki arrived and were absolutely perfect. I have to believe someone, somewhere was looking out for me on that one. They were not too long, which would have required time spent at a tailor since I can't teach in anything besides flats. They were not too tight or narrow, not too loose or baggy. They were clean and dressy looking. They were inexpensive. Most importantly, they had pockets. I have worn them 4-5 days a week since then, and today, finally had to admit that both pockets in the black pair are entirely busted. This has never happened to me in a pair of pants before. The bottoms are completely frayed apart. Why? Because they had keys, pencils, chapstick, hall passes, confiscated notes, dry erase markers, and hundreds of other things jammed into them countless times every day for the last 7 months.

As a teacher, my hands are never my own. From the moment the bell rings, they are otherwise occupied and cannot be bothered to keep track of keys, chapstick, and papers. They are too frequently called upon for one of their many tasks. You cannot aimlessly swing a key ring when you are constantly writing, copying, typing, erasing, underlining, checking, crossing, highlighting, scribbling, noting. You cannot lazily smear on your burt's bees, stick in one hand, cap in the other, when you are continually pointing, shaping, waving, miming, gesturing, ruffling, soothing, holding, tapping, poking, high-fiving.
And yet it is not enough to simply stash these on your desk in a little metal cup. Because when you are endlessly pacing, jumping, bending, jogging, stretching, sneaking, maneuvering, circling, monitoring, and high-stepping, you cannot waste a single footfall on trekking back to your desk for a small essential.