I was never able to express myself in grammar school, at least not through wardrobe. I attended a Catholic grade school, and I was forced to wear a standardized uniform. By the time I had reached the seventh grade, and my rebellious side had kicked in, I was relegated to sagging my pants to “stick it to the man” — or in this case, nuns — which must have looked even more ridiculous considering that the other half of my “hip-hop” wardrobe consisted of a white dress shirt and a clip-on tie that featured the initials of the fine institution I attended. “SBS…bee-OTCH!”
Anyway, my background in self-expression notwithstanding, I was rather shocked when my sister, who is now a teacher at a public grade school, informed me that one of the fifth-grade students at her school was roaming the hallways wearing a shirt that read “Pimpin’ ain’t easy.”
Now, giving the parents of this upstart child the benefit of a doubt, I can only assume that when they purchased this shirt FOR their young son, they were aware of what the term “pimpin’” means, but thought that this next generation of children had adopted a new meaning for it, along the lines of “bad” actually meaning “good,” “stupid” meaning “cool,” and “fresh” referring to things other than vegetables. Maybe their child even lied to them at the graphic t-shirt store, and told them that “pimpin” is now slang for “homework.” Regardless, I can assure them that, throughout the years, “pimpin’” has retained its original meaning, which is, as Webster’s defines it, “The act of retaining profits from prostitutes, or ‘hos,’ and resorting to physical violence against said hos if they are not having enough sex, or aiming to cheat the pimp out of his rightful percentage of profits.”
So, in essence, these parents have allowed their child out into the world proclaiming that he, at such a young age, has a stable of prostitutes from which he absorbs income, and he is having increasing difficulty doing so. For all I know, this kid spends recess in a top hat and cane, and hangs out by the basketball hoop smoking cigars while scantily clad women occasionally drive up to drop off wads of cash. And apparently, things have changed, because when I was in fifth grade, my vast knowledge of sex involved the awareness that I liked boobs.
So kudos to this kid — he’s well ahead of the curve, I guess. I thought that sagging my pants was making a statement, but this kid is already convincing women at least twice his age to sell their bodies for his financial benefit. And as far as the parents are concerned, well, they probably should have done their homework before they allowed their fifth-grade child to wear such a shirt out in public, much less an institution of education. But hey, like the saying goes, homework ain’t easy.
