TOADTalk by Mr. Snyder: To Tat or not To Tat?

 

This past Thanksgiving break, I was visiting my parents in Boston and was driving my dad’s brand new car, accompanied by my wife [Theana Hancock Snyder, mathematics teacher and cross-country/track coach] and my mother.  We were stopped at a red light when all of a sudden, we were hit from behind.  I got out of the car, kind of annoyed.  The other driver—a guy about my age—got out of the car behind me.  I want to demonstrate for you roughly what he looked like.  Give me just a minute here.

[He changes into skater shoes and hat, unbuttons and untucks his flannel shirt, and adds fake rotten teeth and fake neck tattoo.]

As soon as I saw this guy, my heart sank for a moment. On my first reaction, I was worried that this wasn’t going to go well: that a guy that dressed like this might argue with me, or claim it was somehow my fault, or something like that. But right off the bat, he was very nice and down-to-earth. He said, “Oh, man, I’m wicked sorry. That was totally my fault. I looked down at my phone and just hit you.” I started to feel bad that I had judged him on first instinct, because he was polite and apologetic. He pointed out that there was no damage and asked if we could all just leave since everything seemed ok and he was late for work; I wanted to trade information quickly, just in case we found some damage later, to avoid any trouble with the insurance company. So we collected our registration and started to copy things down.

 

At that moment, a police officer happened to see us stopped in the middle of the road and pulled up alongside us. He asked what was going on, and we told him we’d gotten in an accident but everything was ok. Now, normally, at this point, a police officer would leave us to our own devices and go on about his busy day. However, this officer gave us both a good look-over, instructed us to pull over to a nearby car dealership, and said that HE’d handle the paperwork. I think we were all nervous about the police officer’s unusual decision to get involved. When I drove to the dealership and parked next to the guy who had hit me, the officer parked his police cruiser directly behind our two cars, blocking us in so we couldn’t leave. He demanded our licenses and registration; I provided mine, and the other guy gave him a social security card instead of a license, saying that he’d forgotten his license at home. Warning sign #1.

 

The cop went back to his car to scan my license and the other driver’s social security card while the two of us talked outside, with my mom and my wife waiting inside our car. The other driver was still friendly, but he was clearly agitated. He said he was scared about getting fired from his job, because he’d been late several times before. I felt bad for him; he seemed to me like a good guy who had fallen on some hard luck. A few minutes later, the cop came back out and said to the other driver, “You want to tell me why this isn’t your social security card? The picture came up on my machine, and it’s obviously not you.” Uh oh. Warning sign #2. The driver said, “Ok, you want me to be honest with you? I had a big problem with heroin that I got over about a year ago, and I lost like 100 pounds.” Warning sign #3. The cop got on his walkie-talkie and went back to his car.

 

At this point, it dawned on me that this might not end well for me, either. Chatting with a confessed heroin addict on the street after a “car accident” that left no visible damage isn’t really the ideal scenario in which to make the acquaintance of a Massachusetts State Trooper. Anyhow, the cop seemed to be paying no attention to me, and I didn’t bug him to ask for permission to leave because, honestly, I was hoping that he would forget I existed.

 

A few minutes later, the cop came out again and addressed the other driver. He said, “Nothing you’ve told me has added up, and this isn’t you; why don’t you tell me the truth?” The other driver started to freak out; there’s no other way I can describe it. He went into a small fit, jerking his hands up and down in frustration. The police officer said, “I’m going to have to handcuff you; you’re not under arrest, but you’re out control, and I need to make sure that you don’t pull out a gun or a grenade or anything right now.” (I was thankful that he did that, because I was thinking the same thing.) The cop cuffed him and patted him down, then led him to the back of the police cruiser. Another officer arrived; the first cop asked him to go keep an eye on the girl who was sitting in the passenger seat of the other car. The new officer looked me up and down, puffed out his chest, and said, “What’s your problem, buddy?” I said, “I didn’t do anything!” and the first cop laughed and said, “No, no, this is the guy that got hit.”

 

The new cop apologized to me and began talking to the girl. She had the same stained teeth, she had no identification on her, and she claimed that she didn’t even know to whom the car belonged. The cop asked permission to search the car, and she said, “It’s not mine; do whatever you want.” The cop quickly pulled out a large pile of gift cards… and a syringe. At this point, the first cop finally gave me permission to leave and moved his cruiser from behind our car. My mother, my wife and I drove off in relief, glad we had each other to confirm that this insane story had actually really happened, and went home to tell our family and friends all about it. The whole scene had taken place in under 10 minutes; this guy went from going about his daily business to going to jail in the blink of an eye.

Obviously, this was a really scary encounter that added some excitement to our Thanksgiving break, which otherwise consisted mostly of class preparation, eating, and football on TV. But it also gave us some food for thought. When police officers see minor traffic accidents, they just about always make sure that everybody is ok, clear the vehicles out of the road if possible, and rush everybody along on their way. But this officer stuck around because he smelled a rat, and his hunch proved to be correct. What tipped him off?

 

It’s hard to believe that looking like this didn’t have something to do with it. I truly believe that the cop saw a suspicious figure and decided to poke around a little bit, and it turned out he was right.

Here’s the question of the day: is it valid to judge people based on their physical appearance? I’m not talking about race, religion, or creed here, but about the choices that people make in the ways that they present themselves. Ethnic profiling poses a very different issue of civil liberties, because it involves judgment based on factors beyond an individual’s control. But is it fair to judge a person based on his or her clothes? Hairstyle? What about piercings or tattoos, or lack thereof? Do you want to be judged on those grounds?

 

I’m guessing that most of you are thinking that the answer to all these questions is an emphatic, “NO.” After all, we all know the old adage, “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” But what about “Manners maketh man”—the idea that character can be identified through external show? What about all those clothing ads you digest on TV and in magazines, or the popular brands that you see other teenagers wear? If you think about this issue for a minute, you’ll realize that we actually make judgments about other people based on their appearance on a day to day basis, even if we may try hard not to. I’m not talking about being petty and mean, necessarily; human beings have a very basic tendency to stereotype, and people’s clothing choices help us to predict their personalities based on their statements about their own “in” groups. Think about this: in the video that the EAC eventually showed us after Friday’s assembly, they represented snobby rich kids primarily by wrapping light-colored sweaters around their shoulders. And you all know that you’re unlikely to get high marks from a college interviewer if you show up dressed like I am right now. You’ve heard that you can’t judge a book by its cover, but on a certain level, everybody does.

 

This might not be news to many of you, but at least to me, it’s vaguely troubling. Personally, I don’t really like the idea of people deciding whether or not they like me before they get to know me. And my ambition is to do my very best to curb my own human tendency to make judgments about other people based on their appearance. Yes, that police officer was correct in making an assumption about that other driver based on his clothes and his crazy neck tattoo. But identifying potential criminals is his job, not mine. I’m proud of myself for giving that guy the benefit of the doubt; I’m proud of myself for feeling bad for him. After my initial reaction, I was legitimately concerned about this guy who seemed to be trying to turn his life around, rooting for him to stay out of trouble and keep his job. I was wrong about him; in the end, it became obvious that this person had caused his own problems and was continuing to do so. But based on what I knew at the time, I am proud that I resisted the temptation to judge him, because I believe it was the right thing to do, even if I was incorrect.

 

We can turn this topic around the other way, too. Remember that other people tend to make hasty judgments about you, as well! Let me use a recent example from Thacher. I’ve got to confess: I actually find cutoff jeans day pretty hilarious. The whole “celebration of the upper thigh” is clever, goofy, harmless, and fun, and I love the enthusiasm of Trent, Austin, and the rest of the participants. On Friday, I had a student in class ask if me if I thought he should put on some actual pants before his tour. See, this is an easy one. A prospective Thacher student on a tour might not necessarily get the message all that clearly that cutoff jeans day is a special occasion and that Thacher students don’t normally dress this way; he or she might not get the joke. That student might very well be a fantastic kid that we really want at Thacher, and it would be a shame if, say, Will Kirkland’s high-cut, tight white jean shorts scared him off. Mr. Mulligan and Ms. McMahon have often had to address the issue of self-expression and its effect on the external world when it comes to hair length and piercings, as well. Mr. Mulligan’s standard response is that clothing and hairstyle can become a self-fulfilling prophecy at a boarding school. Your appearance makes others expect certain behavior from you, and it attracts students in the admissions process that feel comfortable around people who dress like them.

 

One final piece of advice: tattoos. As far as I’m concerned, tattoos are an epidemic in American culture right now. If you ever consider getting a tattoo, I can only exhort you to please, please get it in a place where you can easily cover it up. Have you ever seen embarrassing pictures of your parents from 20 or 30 years ago in which they’re wearing clothes that look utterly ridiculous? Their answer is always, “It was fashionable at the time.” There’s a picture of my dad from around 1973 in which he’s sporting long hair, a mustache, thick plastic glasses, a big frilly, puffy white shirt, and about an 8 inch long wooden cross dangling from his neck. While my dad’s fashion sense in 1973 is certainly up for debate, what if your tattoo choice is “fashionable at the time,” but looks as stupid and embarrassing to you 20 years from now as your parents’ teenage clothing preferences? Tattoos—especially ones that you can’t cover—make a statement to other people that you might not always want to make for the rest of your life, in all situations.

In the end, here’s my advice: do your best not to make assumptions about other people from the way that they dress. Try to give every human being the benefit of the doubt, and always try to keep an open mind. As Ronald Reagan liked to say, “Trust, but verify.” (That’s actually one of my favorite pieces of advice for a lot of different situations.) At the same time, when you make choices about your own physical appearance, consider the people you could unwittingly be pushing away and the relationships you may be damaging before they even get started. People you know well will take you for who you are, but you don’t want to shut yourself out of the chance to make a good impression on new acquaintances who could turn into dear friends.

 

I’m not accusing any of you of dressing poorly here. But this traffic stop really made an impression on me. Here we were, two white males in our late 20’s in a minor accident. The police officer was perfectly nice to me, and I drove off and went about my business. The other guy immediately aroused the officer’s suspicion, and he went to jail. Why? I blame the neck tattoo.