Dear Editor,

It was hilarious to see the artificial intelligence (AI)-generated photos of Jamaica covered in snow throughout this past week while the country experienced a cold front.

Temperatures fell to unprecedented levels, which is expected again this weekend. The mornings are colder, the winds sharper, and the nights longer. For many Jamaicans, the solution has been simple: Pull on a sweater, wrap a scarf, adjust. My friend, Justin Kerr, a French teacher from Christiana, Manchester, sent me a video of him on Snapchat in which he was covered in layers of warm clothes. It reminded me of my days in France and Canada.

Despite the cold weather conditions, warmth has become a disciplinary issue rather than a basic human need for many Jamaican students who attend public schools. Reports surfaced in the news that students from a St Catherine-based primary school were barred from wearing sweaters, especially those not officially sanctioned by school uniform codes. This situation has reignited a long-standing debate: When do rules stop serving education and start undermining it?

Even though one specific school was highlighted, it should be noted that several other schools have this nonsensical rule that students must wear school-branded merch or sweaters of specific colours. One of the obvious challenges is that many families cannot afford this extra expense.

At the heart of this issue lies a tension between school-level enforcement of uniformity and the Ministry of Education’s rhetoric around student welfare. While national discourse increasingly foregrounds child-centred education, well-being, and inclusivity, school practices often remain rooted in rigid, punitive interpretations of discipline. The banning of sweaters, even in cold conditions, exposes this disconnect starkly.

But uniform policies in Jamaica did not emerge in a vacuum. They are deeply entangled with colonial legacies of order, control, and respectability, whereby discipline is equated with obedience, sameness, and visible compliance. In that system, the body — especially the black child’s body — was something to be regulated, corrected, and made presentable according to external standards. Comfort, context, and care were secondary.

Today, those ideologies persist, sometimes unconsciously, in school cultures that prioritise “neatness” over nurture. A child shivering in class because their sweater is the “wrong shade” or lacks a school crest is not experiencing discipline; they are experiencing discomfort sanctioned by authority.

What makes the issue more troubling is that it unfolds in a policy environment that increasingly acknowledges students’ psychosocial needs. The Ministry of Education has repeatedly emphasised student well-being, mental health, and safe learning environments. Yet without clear, enforceable guidance that empowers schools to prioritise health and comfort during exceptional circumstances — such as a cold front — school administrators default to tradition and fear of appearing “lax”.

The same tension surrounds hair grooming policy for boys. Yet, in comparative contexts such as the French West Indies, or even Barbados, which has an education system identical to Jamaica’s, the emphasis is not the same.

The result of sweater-banning is confusion, inconsistency, and, ultimately, harm. Some principals quietly allow sweaters; others rigidly enforce bans. Students are left navigating arbitrary authority, while parents question whose directives truly matter — the education ministry’s broad principles or the school’s rules.

There is also an uncomfortable class dimension to this debate. For students from economically vulnerable households, buying a school-branded sweater may not be immediately feasible. When warmth becomes conditional on purchasing power or institutional approval, equity is compromised. Education systems that claim to serve all children cannot ignore such realities. Could it be that these schools enforce the buying of their merch as a subtle form of fund-raising?

None of this is an argument for chaos or the abandonment of school identity. Uniforms can foster belonging and reduce visible inequalities. But uniformity must never come at the expense of humanity. Flexibility in moments of genuine need is not indiscipline, it is leadership.

If our education system is serious about decolonising its practices — as policymakers often claim — then moments like this demand reflection. Decolonisation is not only about curriculum content; it is about rethinking power, authority, and whose comfort matters. It requires moving away from inherited logics that equate control with care.

The cold will pass. But the question remains: What kind of schooling are we offering our children? One that teaches them that rules matter more than well-being? Or one that models empathy, reason, and responsiveness? As mentioned by Dwayne Dubidad — principal of Red Hills Primary School who distributed jackets to students — school administrators should demonstrate heightened care towards students, even as they seek to enforce school rules in chilly temperatures.

Allowing a child to wear a sweater during a cold front will not erode discipline. What erodes discipline is an education system that forgets its primary duty: to protect, nurture, and educate the whole child.

The Ministry of Education said disciplinary actions could be taken against the St Catherine-based principal for his hard stance in a critical situation. Let us see if the ministry finally shows some teeth.

Warm children learn better. That should not be controversial.

Oneil Madden

maddenoniel@yahoo.com