V-neck Jumper

Are you ready for the most irrational thought you’ve ever heard? Strap in.

I was very sweaty as a teenager. I still am today. I carry a hanky or ‘neckerchief’ with me daily to dab my brow or pat down my neck. Yes, I know a majority of 31-year-olds don’t have a hanky on their person at all times, but I do.

When I was teaching, students would mimic my lifting of the shoulders of my shirt to stop visible sweat marks. This would usually happen as a result of rushing around the classroom from student to student, or in rehearsals, or in JUST FUCKING STANDING STILL AND NOT BEING ABLE TO REGULATE MY TEMPERATURE LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING.

There was one day when I raised my arm to write something meaningful on the board in Year 12 English and realised that I needed to re-deodorise. However, I had stupidly not packed my usual Nivea Men 48-hour Sensitive Protect anti-perspirant. So, the question went out to students if they had anything in their bags to help out Mr Hanley. You would think that 17 or 18-year-old boys would carry some sort of respectable deodorant. Nah, mate. I took the best I could, and one student willingly passed on his Lynx. For the remainder of the day I smelt like repressed memories and shame.

After an intense Friday lunchtime volleyball training when I was in Year 10, I couldn’t stop sweating. And I don’t mean that I was perspiring just a tad. No, I sat in my chair of the mechanics shed in 30+ degree heat and dripped continuously for approximately 96 minutes.

I couldn’t stop sweating on the first day of my new job in 2018. I’m sure everyone was weirded out by this newbie who was constantly wiping his body with an already damp handkerchief.

Anyway, back to the main event. The year was 2003. We had transferred from the junior campus to the senior campus, lots of us were taking out first VCE classes, and our friendship group had procured a new place in which to sit at playtime and lunchtime. Yes, playtime. Ellen always seemed to somehow get cheese on her shoulders, blind seagulls were flying into and getting caught in bike spokes, and the Swedish exchange student was turning heads.

We had just finished English in room 8 with one of the bevvy of brilliant teachers I had over my time at WSC and I had become super warm. We must have been having a debate over something super intellectual, or perhaps I was deep into my work attempting to understand the complexities of analytical essays, or maybe I was JUST FUCKING SITTING STILL AND COULDN’T REGULATE MY TEMPERATURE LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING.

I was wearing something quite close to my chest, literally. Underneath my WSC polar fleece jacket was a terrible secret… a V-neck woollen jumper.

To most of you, this will seem pretty insignificant. I can hear you asking questions like:

‘Why didn’t you just take off the jumper?’

‘Why didn’t you just wear the jumper?’

‘Why were you wearing a woollen jumper AND a polar fleece jacket, you dickhead?’

But what you don’t know is the climate and unspoken dress code for the males of our school. I’m fairly certain EVERY school in Victoria had woollen V-neck jumpers and everyone wore them. At our school, however, this was not the case. It was an unspoken law that they were exclusively for females. Because, you know, that’s logical.

There was one male friend in our friendship group who wore one, but it did not have the school logo and was a slightly lighter blue. He was also targeted for being slightly effeminate, and my inner-fear of being ‘found out’ didn’t allow me to speak up against anyone who was bullying someone for being allegedly gay.

Anyway, back to me sweating… We walked out of English and I planned to do my normal routine.

1. Watch my classmates put books in their lockers and wait for them to clear the halls.

2. Take off woollen V-neck jumper with the polar fleece jacket.

3. Swiftly remove the jumper from the jacket, fold and place at the bottom of my bag.

Simple, hey? Well, it would’ve been if it wasn’t for two of the girls from Grantville who I loved with all of my heart. They questioned me as to why I was so flushed. Look, it actually could have been a number of reasons. I had terrible acne in high school and my face was constantly red, but that’s another story. It could have been because someone I had a crush on spoke to me, but that’s another story. It was simply because I COULDN’T REGULATE MY TEMPERATURE LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING.

One of them told me to take off my jacket and I refused. I knew what would come of me if I was to do so. As soon as this refusal happened one of them moved towards me and unzipped the polar fleece. There I was, in the front of tens of my classmates and friends in all my woollen jumper glory. Instead of wearing the jumper with pride (is this even a thing?) I was scared of what people would think of me. There were a few looks of shock that A MALE WAS WEARING A WOOLLEN V-NECK JUMPER, but mainly quiet. I removed the jumper, put my jacket back on, gathered my play lunch and walked outside. I think I ignored that anything had occurred.

Fast forward 9 years to when I started teaching. Male and female students wore V-neck jumpers daily. I wore V-neck jumpers daily. EVERYONE WORE V-NECK JUMPERS DAILY BECAUSE WE SHOULDN’T THINK THAT WEARING V-NECK JUMPERS IS A BAD THING.

How insecure in myself was I that I couldn’t be seen to be wearing a bloody woollen V-neck jumper? How many other things did I not do because I didn’t think it would be socially acceptable?

Humans are weird.