Et Tu Amelia Bedelia?

I've never liked her. I think the idioms are over kids' heads. "Dusting" the furniture with powder, um, yeah, not funny.

These are the first characters of color that I have seen in AB books, and they are up to no good.

Anyone else find this odd? And racist?

Skooled.

If you have been reading this blog for a while, you probably know that I occasionally work as a substitute teacher. Originally I had tried to get a part-time job in the office of our local public charter school, with the sole intention of checking it out as a potential school for our two small kidlets. You can read about my experiences at this school here, here and here. It is Waldorf 'informed,' whatever that means.

In an ideal world, our kids would go to Montessori, (my mom owns and operates her own Montessori school in Wisconsin). After a few years of Montessori they would move on to Kindergarten, and then to elementary school at an exceptional Los Angeles public school. (Is that an oxymoron?) Private school here is absolutely ridiculous. It costs between 15-30 k for preschool, per child.

I started attending neighborhood council school board meetings a few years ago. (Yes, I was the crazy, childless woman in the front row asking about API scores and percentages of high school graduates that go on to four year universities). I did have a few awkward moments when people would ask me, "How old are your kids?" and I would answer, "Well, I don't actually have kids." You could see them trying to figure out what on earth I was doing at the meeting, as they surreptitiously moved away from me.

If you read through the Waldorf posts that I mentioned, you may see that I have very mixed feelings about the enviable, smaller class sized, public charter school, located mere blocks from my home. Westside parents compete in an Olympic manner to get their progeny a spot at this school.

The things that I really like about it are that the kids are highly imaginative, and can tell an amazing story. They don't watch television during the week and therefore their play never involves Dora the Explorer or Strawberry Shortcake. They build imaginary submarines that they fly to the moon. They gather pilots and wizards as their flight crew, and establish new kingdoms on Mars. They are creative little kidlets with long attention spans.

There is another public school blocks away from our house. It is an LAUSD school. It doesn't have Japanese lessons. The kids don't learn to knit Gnomes, and there is no lavender spray to be found. It doesn't have as much money, and it lacks in parental involvement.

Last May, Steven and I attended the fundraisers for these two schools.

Here is the picture from the Waldorf-y charter school's event...


Here is the picture from the LAUSD school...


Notice anything?

Could the charter school BE ANY WHITER? For all of their diversity claims, for all of their multi-cultural curriculum ideals, their May Day celebration looks really, really, white to me. Where are the children of color?

Our LAUSD school looks much more diverse, wouldn't you agree?


I think I feel more comfortable with the Funky Chicken (the dance that the latter school did at their party). As romantic as it is to skip around the maypole and celebrate spring, I think I will walk with my kidlets to the 'lousy' public school around the corner. The principal is an African-American woman, and the API scores go up every year.

This is not to say I won't play the Ethiopian adoptee card at a prestigious westside private school if I am able to. The public middle school situation in Los Angeles scares the living shit out of me. I have tutored many middle schoolers here, and it is not pretty. The sex and drugs start at a surprisingly early age. Ever heard of a 'lipstick party'? Unfortunately I cannot describe this on my family-friendly blog. There are gangs too. Crazy stuff. I am not saying that it doesn't go on at the private middle schools. (The joke when I was growing up was that the private schools just had better, more expensive drugs). If I can get my kids into a truly diverse private school (on a scholarship for instance) where they will be saving Darfur and editing films at age eight, I won't hesitate. Although I dread hearing, "Well mom, Ptolemy's family goes to Aspen every spring!! Why can't we go to Aspen mom?" Yes, believe it or not , in a what may go down in history as the most pretentious name given to any child by a Hollywood actress, I just read an article about so and so and her son Ptolemy. Spare me.

This week the Los Angeles Times reported that 9,000 LAUSD employees will be laid off. I am not sure what this means for our local public school. I am, however, thrilled to report that my mom is selling her school (any Midwesterners want to buy a Montessori school?) She is retiring in forty days. She is planning on setting up a mini-Montessori in our backyard studio for our kidlets. That way, if affordable preschool is an issue, I can become an over-zealous homeschooler in my back yard. I will teach them about SCIENCE. No, just kidding. I don't know anything about science.

It seems obvious to me that the LAUSD public school is a much better choice for our children. I have sat in on some classes, talked to parents, and attended some open houses, but I would certainly love your opinions.

Really, I think what it comes down to is the Funky Chicken vs. Once Around the Maypole. If that is the case, well then, no contest. Funky Chicken wins every time.

Friday Friend or Family Feature...

Today's feature is NHMD. He isn't someone that I would necessarily classify as "Friend or Family" but for some reason this man keeps popping back into my mind. I don't know his name and I don't have his picture. He looked a little like this person...


I met him several years ago at The Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County. He was there with his son, and I was there with "J". This is J...


I was J's tutor at the time. I was volunteering here. J and I had come a long way. He was a kid living at a homeless shelter with his mom. We had built up a pretty good relationship.

One day, Steven and I took him on a field trip to the museum. We were busy uncovering dinosaur bones in one of the interactive kids' areas when this man, (I will call him Natural History Museum Dad, or NHMD for short), approached me. He said, "Your son has very good manners. He has been very helpful and polite to my son." "Oh, he is not my son," I stammered, " I am his tutor."

Why is this significant? I keep remembering how this man just assumed that J was my son. It was a few years ago, and I know more about adoption now, but I think then it didn't even occur to me that some people would be so accepting of a white mom with a black son. When I think about all the challenges we will face as trans racial adopters I always reach back in my mind to this moment. NMHD made me reevaluate the meaning of being a mom. Maybe he planted a seed that would grow in my consciousness and lead me on my path to parenthood.

I think about J all the time. The last time I saw him I met him in south Los Angeles. He had moved into a permanent home with his mother and his siblings. We walked to his local library. We had an incident that was the opposite of my incident with NHMD, but I will save that for another time.

Today, I would just like to thank that museum going stranger for making me think, and opening my eyes a bit.

J, I know that you are presently a teenager in south Los Angeles. I hope that you are ok.