3 posts tagged “school”

On May 5th I officially leave behind the SAHM life I've been living for the last 4 years, and take on the role of Working Mom. Sure, I've been working the last 4 months at Queenie's school, but it's about as part-time as you can get, and you know, I'm still with the kids, so really it's more like just hanging out and getting paid (which I was already doing before the school started paying me).

I have a lot of mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I've got to leave my kids. On the other hand, HOLY SWEET MOSES, I get to leave my kids. I get to leave the meltdowns, the whining, the bickering, and the hangings-on. I get to go to the bathroom, or even Starbucks, by myself. So that could be exciting. And really, I'll be working for a fine organization that does a lot of good in the world, and I am being given an opportunity to bring about change, and create programs that I enjoy. So, until the great money fairy falls from the sky and whisks me away to a lovely house in West LA, I've got a good position working with friends, and am able to help dig my family out of the financial hole we've dug for ourselves. Not bad, right?

So, there it is. Thought I should mention it.

Spit Spot is thrilled (at least in theory) with going to preschool. It's on site where I work, so she's already familiar with the space and many of the kids who go there. We've gone shopping for her emergency kit and class supplies and she keeps practicing using her new pillow on a nap mat in the living room.

Queenie, however, is a bit freaked out. She's mentioning it to people at school which is huge as she never mentions anything troubling her to her teachers. She's private like that. So how do I resolve that problem? By providing her with a security blanket, something to help her feel safe, strong.

That's right, we've broken down and agreed to the hamster. Help us, dear G-d.

More on that later. We're just all kind of sad that we can't name it Waffles, as that is already taken by a schoolmate's dwarf hamster. But damn, it's a good one.

The other day, while driving Queen Soledad (5 yo) home from school, she starts telling me about a movie they were watching during their Cultural Explorations elective. "There's a girl," she starts telling me, "and she has a dog, and then a tornado comes and she goes to a special place where they sing and there's a yellow path!" I'm stunned. I panic. Monkeys!

Me: Have you seen any flying monkeys?
QS: Monkeys? No.
Me: Is there a scary lady?
QS: You mean the blue lady in the sky?
Me: Blue? You mean, green?
QS: No. Blue.
Me: Queenie, are you watching The Wizard of Oz?
QS; Yes!

So, my brain is officially reeling. Last I heard, they were studying India in this class. Why are they watching The Wizard of Oz? What culture could this possibly be? Little People? Is Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory next? Munchkins to Oompa Loompas?

I'm pissed. We're supposed to get permission slips before the school shows the kids anything, and I'm just not cool with The Wizard of Oz being viewed by my 5 yr old for the first time at school. I had no clue. She's started having nightmares and I don't need to add flying monkeys and green witches to her psyche at this point. So, I email the teacher in charge as calmly as possible, waiting to send it until Clive has a chance to look it over and make sure I don't sound too much like the ranty "that mom" that no mom wants to be. I tell her we're not sure what's going on, and Clive will check in with her in the morning for some context.

Next morning, Clive calls me after he drops of Queenie at school.

Clive: The Wiz.
Me: Huh?
Clive: They weren't watching The Wizard of Oz. They were watching The Wiz.
Me: (pause)
Clive: For African - American studies. They're talking about the casting of AA's in typically white stories.
Me: Ohhhhhhhh. The Wiz.
Clive: Right.

Ok. So, it's The Wiz. I'm feeling better. I'm still annoyed that I wasn't told about it in advance so I could pretend to see it again and assess its appropriateness for a kindergardener, but don't remember it being so  scary, so I'm kind of okay. I'm relieved that I can directly tie it to a culture. Upon further thought, I'm a bit taken aback that they're choosing this to highlight, but well, ok. I'm not the teacher.

I find it really interesting that she failed to mention the African American part of the whole thing, and the teacher, when I see her at the end of the day and thank her for filling us in is surprised.

Teacher: She didn't tell you it was for African American studies?
Me: No.
Teacher: She's always the first to raise her hand when I ask what we're studying. In fact, she even calls out, "I'm African American!"

We both find this funny, as while she's pretty dark-skinned, at least in the summertime, she's half Puerto Rican and half Easter European white girl. Now, being PR, she could most definitely have some African blood in her, but I don't think it's something we've really discussed at home. She has had a fair amount of exposure African stories and music. Maybe somehow it's all blended together in her mind somehow. In any case, she definitely identifies with being of color. She comments on color a fair amount, and all her princess coloring books, or people she draws, almost always have brown skin. Even Cinderella, which I always find pretty humorous. I should probably have her take that into class next time.

Queen Soledad has surgery scheduled for next Thursday. I've been coached to call it a *procedure* instead, as if that will help me be less nervous about it, and won't overly alarm people we tell. It really does seem to be more procedure than surgery. There's no incision, and supposedly, no real pain or discomfort afterward. But they do need to put
her under to do it, an IV, all that.

She must be in perfect health for them to go ahead with it. I know in the middle of cold and flu season, this is pretty much a gamble, but she's been really healthy all season so I was feeling lucky.

Then today I volunteered at her school.

Everyone, almost everyone there -- the students, the teachers, the siblings at drop-off -- are filled, and dripping with, snot. And so now I'm petrified. How can we escape it?  We probably can't. But all I need are 6 more days of cold-free living. Just 6 little days!

A couple people have asked me if I'm going to keep her out of school next week, but what would be the point of that? I feel like it's probably already in her, and she'll fight it off, or no. Besides, what am I supposed to do with her? Keep her home? All day? For 6 days? She'd kill me.

Anyway, fingers crossed.