Preschool Panic

Ok, I'm not really panicked but I feel like I should be.  Apparently, getting your child into the right preschool is the most important thing you can do in your child's life.  The schools are exclusive, highly selective and expensive as hell.  It's also going to determine whether they end up at the local community college or Yale.  I say bollocks, but I did cave in and start calling around to schools in the area, most of which told me to call back when she's one year old.  Pshew, I thought.  I can delay the panic for a few more months.  But one school near us said I better get in for a tour and get on the waiting list.  So I did.

I was told to be there at 8:30am.  I rushed to get there on time only to find that the tour didn't actually start until 9am and I should just have a coffee and bagel and peruse the brochures on the table.  As someone with very little time to spare, this waste of my precious half hour was torture.  While I waited, pacing, trying not to look pissed, the schoolkids were doing some kind of weird religious (this isn't a religious school) ceremony in the courtyard.  As I observed, I started to get a massive headache.  I started relaxation techniques in my head to release the tension.  Then I noticed two kids waiting at the entrance with goblets of burning incense.  Bingo.  Every time they came back and stood in the doorway, my head throbbed.  Only twenty more minutes to go.

This school, which I won't name, is based on a very unique philosophical approach to learning.  Head throbbing and jaw clenched, I was excited to see such nice facilities and teachers whose gentle positivity made me feel like the world was happy and carefree.  The tour started in the Nursery.  We parents were asked to sit on the floor in a circle, hold hands and go through a typical activity with the teacher.  Teacher sang a song which basically spelled out everything she was doing with her hands, from building an imaginary snowman to buttoning our coats.  She passed around tissues, which we balled up into "snowballs" and were instructed within the song to throw at our neighbors.  I sat there, thoughts flooding my aching head, "I'm bored already.  I don't really want to hold this guy's hand.  What about phonics?  THIS is gonna cost me 13 grand a year?!"

The tour continued and we sat in on grades 2-7.  Envisioning my baby this old freaked me out.  I wanted to run out of there.  They had already lost me at "Everyone hold hands," but they really lost me when the athletics teacher had us play tag.  Yes, the adults.  I let a guy get me and excused myself.  I'm sure this place is perfect for some people, but I knew it wasn't right for us.  What I did learn is that I eventually want LO to be exposed to the real world, not a school that's an incubator where nobody is competitive and woodworking takes the place of mathematics.  For now, she's a baby, and I think I'll enjoy her baby-ness while it lasts, thank you very much.  Save the preschool panic for another day.