I was fresh off my preteen years when the vice principal of my middle school pulled a few friends and me out of the line where we had been waiting. Sharing a questioning look with the other girls, I followed the vice principal down the hallway. A female teacher followed, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was in trouble, which was laughable considering that I had been a straight-A student my entire life and kept my nose cleaner than a whistle. My worst offense in school had been taking the bathroom pass because I was bored and not because I actually need to use the bathroom.

The vice principal sighed before telling us that we needed to be spoken to about our violation of the dress code. Immediately, I found myself confused. Again. I glanced surreptitiously down at my outfit and saw nothing wrong with it. My mother had dropped me off at the bus stop this morning, saying nothing about my clothing. And believe me, if I was wearing something inappropriate, she wouldn’t have let me out the front door. The vice principal continued speaking, and I directed my attention to him as he told us that our shorts were too short.

Immediately, I slapped my arms down at my sides. My middle school handbook still reads today, “Skirts (including a slit), and shorts shall extend past the fingertips down the leg.” I will admit, while appropriate and modest, my shorts were about three quarters of an inch too short. Fine. It was fair of him to call me out on it; I could be reasonable.

What he said next, however, extended beyond reason. At 13 years old, standing in a hallway with two other girls, I was told by an adult man that my dress code violation was not acceptable because it created a distraction for the boys. He did not emphasize that breaking the policy was unacceptable. Instead, he instructed us that we needed to follow dress code so that the boys could focus in school.

Now, six years later, here’s what I would like to know: When did male focus became a female’s responsibility?

Why, at 13 years old, was I reprimanded for having too much of my stick-thin, preteen, unshapely legs out on a sweltering day? Why were the boys not taught to stay focused and to not be distracted by girls?

Thinking about this incident and others like it astounds me as a young adult. In fact, even in high school, much of this still applied. The student handbook at my high school was even more strict, demanding that all skirts, shorts and dresses fall at or below the knee and, until two years ago, that all shirts must have sleeves. The handbook also explicitly states, “A student may be kept out of classes until appropriate attire is worn.”

Let me make this clear: If I were to show up to my high school in shorts that were above the knee, I would be taken out of my learning environment because it violated dress code, which, in turn, distracted my fellow male classmates.

Instead of teaching women to cover up, why aren’t we teaching men to stop looking? To stop being distracted by it?

This kind of attitude that schools are adopting is promoting a negative culture. It’s putting the responsibility, and thus the blame, on girls. It’s allowing boys to say essentially, “I couldn’t focus because that girl was wearing a V-neck.” And that’s the girl’s fault? NO.

Girls are not responsible for any boy’s actions. It’s ridiculous, and on top of that, completely illogical. Every person bears responsibility for his or her actions. And that is it.

So, why was I taken aside — and forced to show up to class late, thereby affecting my own education — and told that my clothes were creating a distraction for boys? Why was I blamed for having a female body? Why was it my responsibility to make it easier for boys to focus? Why were boys not held accountable? And why are we living in a world where this still happens every day?