FIELD NOTE 2.10 - Chucks are meant to be dirty.

Today on the tram on my way to my phonetics class I sat down across from a man. Soon after the tram left Rector Schmitt I caught the man looking quickly at my shoes, huff a little bit, and then look away. Confused, I looked down.

These shoes are nothing special. Chucks, three years old, purchased on a whim or out of necessity - I can't remember. Faded black canvas, dirty shoe strings, and no tread left on the soles all reveal how much I've worn them. Now thanks to the rain their was a little mud on the toes from the little path I take to leave my dorm.
And then I looked at his shoes: Chucks, the same as mine. Only his were clean, pristine.
Next to his, my shoes looked dreadful. A quick glance around revealed every other French person on that tram was wearing very clean shoes, children included. I was the only one with dirty shoes. No wonder he had scoffed. The tinny voice announced "Facultés" - my stop.
As I stood up I realized something: I like my Chucks the way they are. My Chucks have accompanied me through all three years of my college career and have made it over countless puddles, sidewalks, and metro stops. And that counts for considerably more than a fresh-from-the-box pair of Chucks ever could.