Yesterday I could not post, for lo, I was busy SEETHING. And also shaking my fist at the sky. And ranting on Facebook about the seething and the fist-shaking.
And also eating a bagel. And later, baking cookies. (Rage requires extra carbs!)
Remember this little issue where my school district is spending a bazillion dollars on buses and the solution to that problem is to redo the school zones immediately, resulting in 60% of our kids being forced to switch schools next year?
Yeah, well, they voted on their crack-addled proposal and it passed. Unanimously. Because it will save tons of money, which is obviously a good thing. But what will happen to our schools—especially in the short term—well, who cares about that, right?
It’s surprising I didn’t fill the house with baked goods, actually.
Anyhoo, we had been assured there would be some amendments to the plan; we had been assured the vote was being postponed a month for “further consideration.” Neither of those things turned out to be true, and while I guess I knew deep in my cynical heart that this would be the eventual outcome, I had foolishly believed some of those other promises, and so I was Not Very Happy yesterday when I woke up and the newspaper was all HAHAHA YOUR KIDS ARE SCREWED.
And actually, only one of my kids is screwed. Chickadee is headed to middle school next year, so only Monkey will be directly affected by the change. He will have to change schools.
Thank goodness it’s not like we put a ton of time and energy into selecting his current school! And that it’s not as though the poor kid has already switched schools a couple of times before this! Oh, wait….
(Mmmmm… bagels and cookies. Delicious, carby, denial-rich chewy goodness.)
Now just to be clear (again): There’s nothing wrong with the school he’ll have to go to. The world is not ending. I’m sure it will all be fine. But we picked the current school for some very specific reasons, and even if we hadn’t, change is hard. Change is particularly hard for Monkey, who would be perfectly happy if every single day he was allowed to get up and put on the same clothes he wore the day before, so that he could go do all the same things he did the previous day, in exactly the same order.
This morning over pancakes, we broached the subject. And we made sure to couch it in the most positive way possible:
“So, Monkey, it looks like you’re going to be switching to NewSchool next year after all. But so is TheZ! So you’ll be with him, there!”
“Yay! What about Franklin?”
“Um, well, he’ll still be at OldSchool. Sorry, buddy. But we’ll make sure to have playdates and stuff! And remember all the times we had people come over to swim this summer? We’ll do that a bunch next summer, too.”
“I would really miss Franklin if we weren’t at the same school anymore.”
Otto and I looked at each other. I certainly wasn’t going to bring up all his beloved teachers that he’s going to miss, or all the OTHER kids he knows, or the fact that this will be his third school in four years.
“Well,” I said, trying to sound cheerful, “the good news is that you can WALK to NewSchool, so you won’t have to ride the bus anymore!” That had to be a selling point; a couple of weeks ago there was a string of incompetent substitute bus drivers, one day resulting in a Very Stern Phone Call to the bus garage before the children arrived home an hour late and slightly hysterical.
“Hey,” added Otto, “we could get you a lock and you could actually ride your bike, if you wanted.”
Monkey’s eyes lit up. “I could ride my bike to school?” We nodded. “I’m going to LOVE NewSchool!”
Okay, then. I guess I was worried for nothing. I mean, I’m sure the joy of bike-riding will complete outweigh everything else. Right? Right.