School days, daze, haze, craze, maze – oh whatever.
Applying to first grade in Philadelphia is more like applying to university than it has any right to be. Piles of applications which require not just the child’s name and age and some reassurance that he doesn’t bite unless provoked, but also require essays from the parents on what their educational goals for their child are, about what the child’s home life is like, about the child’s intellectual and social strengths and weaknesses. One application wanted to know where we had been to high school and university and wanted the phone numbers of both sets of grandparents. They all want big bucks out of us, just for the privilege of submitting an application. The application process alone will likely cost in the region of $300 and this from a couple who only broke the poverty barrier two years ago and who still hover on the edge of being eligible for food stamps.
But since after months (years) of agonized philosophizing and soul-searching and banging-heads-against-the-wall, we decided that we couldn’t put Daniel (sensitive, operatic, reactive boy-genius) into the Philly public school system, we’ve made our private school bed and by golly, we’re going to bloody well lie in it. So off we go to shop in Private School R Us.
Today was stop number one on our tour of likely schools. We’re getting up steam a bit late (due to my aforementioned agonized procrastination) so we have four appointments this week and a fifth next week to view and be viewed at various educational establishments. However, having charmed, chatted and quizzed my way through a two and a half hour interview/tour today, I’m done in and can’t imagine doing this all again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. And then again.
To top it off, tonight I have to finish off the applications (three down, two to go) and I don’t wanna. Don’t wanna fill out forms in neat handwriting. Don’t want to write sincerely about my child’s amazingness. Just wanna knit pretty hat in cheap but oooooh soft wool I bought over the weekend so I can have a pretty hat. Maybe watch Captain Janeway escape the Borg. Or maybe read Thud, which lovely, understanding Ed gave me for my birthday. While knitting of course.
Stupid world that makes first grade such a complicated choice-riddled nightmare. Didn’t sign up for this. Just wanted to procreate in basic biological way and then maybe do some hopscotch and drink cocoa with offspring. Now must do right by said offspring. Must navigate capitalist nightmare, fending off scary Uber Parent bats with large sticks and confident boots when what I’d much rather be doing is theater and weaving garlands with flowers and drinking beer and walking in the woods and knitting and reading books and stuff. Pretty pleased that now I have confident boots though. They make the scary schools seem less scary since I stand four inches taller in my first ever proper grown up boots (not just Docs). Although Docs would be handier for kicking people if that should prove necessary.
Oh! You made me cry – but in a good way. I too read Terry Pratchet, I like all things Star Trek and my Docs were worn to nothing. My favourite moments with my girls are at the most uneventful times like while drawing or out for long walks. Congratulations on your grown up boots and good luck and best wishes on finding the right school.