Here’s this week’s Smartmom from the Brooklyn Paper.
The middle school moment of truth is just around the corner.
Sort of.
In the next month or so, Smartmom, Hepcat, and the Oh So Feisty One will have to fill out OSFO’s application to middle school.
Da da da dummmmmm.
Since the fall, they’ve been attending middle school open houses and tours.
OSFO keeps tabs on Smartmom’s progress. She’s convinced that she isn’t doing enough to facilitate the process.
“Have you made appointments at all the schools?” OSFO asks frequently. “Isn’t there somewhere else we should be looking?”
Smartmom explains to her that they are only looking at public schools.
“Is Berkeley Carroll public or private? How about Poly Prep?”
Obviously, middle school is the talk of the playground — and the source of great anxiety for kids and parents alike.
In preparation for that big decision, the Smartmom Three (the whole family minus Teen Spirit) toured New Voices Middle School on 18th Street between Sixth and Seventh avenues and got a really detailed sense of the place from the charismatic principal, Frank Giordana, who took them around. His shirt was lavender, the same color as the walls of the school.
Giordana prides himself on knowing the names of all the children in the school and seems to have created a cozy and nurturing learning environment.
It’s also a very creative place, where the arts are considered an important component of academic life. All sixth graders are required to take dance, drama, fine art, graphic design, and music. In seventh and eighth grade, they are required to specialize.
OSFO liked the idea that she’d have a chance to sample a variety of artistic disciplines. MS 51, another school she is considering, requires that you make a commitment to one of the arts and stick with it for three years.
It’s hard to imagine that a fifth grader would be prepared to make that kind of decision.
Walking back to Third Street after the tour, Smartmom knew better than to ask OSFO what she thought of the school. Sure, part of her just wanted to just blurt out, “So, is New Voices a top contender?”
But she knew that OSFO would bite her head off. A girl needs time to process her own thoughts.
Poor OSFO. She has to leave a school where she’s been comfortable and happy since kindergarten and make a choice about something strange and new.
By the time the Smartmom Three got to 16th Street and Seventh Avenue, OSFO did seem willing to share. She said that she liked the school, but thought it might be a little far away from the apartment.
She wondered if any of her friends would be going there. Obviously, she doesn’t want to make the transition from PS 321 to middle school alone.
Finally, she asked about lunch. She’s gotten used to going out to lunch every day with her friends at PS 321.
“They don’t let any of the kids out of their sight,” Smartmom told her.
“You mean we can’t even go out to get something to eat?” OSFO inquired somewhat incredulously.
“That’s weird.”
So geography, friends and lunch seemed to be OSFO’s main concerns about her future education. That seemed about right to Smartmom.
The three of them walked down Seventh Avenue and avoided the topic of middle school altogether. Mum’s the word unless OSFO brings it up — the subject is fraught with so much anxiety for everyone.
Will she get into the right school? Will she be happy there? Will she do well? Where will she go to high school?
“How about we get something to eat?” Smartmom asked as they passed Grab, the gourmet shop on Seventh Avenue near 14th Street that had some delectable looking pastries in the window.
But OSFO seemed eager to get back to her fifth-grade teachers and classmates at PS 321, the place where she belongs.
Who wouldn’t be in a rush to get back to the tried and true? The future is a giant white piece of paper with not even a stray number two pencil mark on it.
Smartmom looked at her precious child with the long brown hair, skinny jeans, and Uggs and felt an outpouring of love and empathy. How would you feel if you were being asked to leap into the unknown?
No doubt, she’s up for the task. In some ways, she’s ready and raring to go.
But still, change is never easy. Even for OSFO.
This is one of those examples where choice sometimes makes things more difficult. When I went to junior high (I never heard the word “middle school” till I was 40), we knew where we were going based on where we lived. In high school, unless you went to private school or tried to get into one of the few specialized schools, you went where you were assigned, again by where you lived.
In 1967 for eleventh grade, I got into Midwood by pretending that I lived across the street, in a house owned by my parents’ friend, a police detective and his wife. We actually had to get a phone in their house in my mother’s name in the house. And the first time I was absent, when no one answered my “mother’s” phone (this was before answering machines or voice mail), I was called into the office to explain why no one was home.
I quickly made up that my mother (most mothers were assumed not to be working) had taken me to the doctor when the school truant office called. They were quite suspicious. Why didn’t my pediatrician (yes, kids up to 21 had pediatricians then — I actually was driving to Dr. Stein’s office in Turner Towers across from the Brooklyn Museum to get my polio shots) just make a house call? What kind of pediatrician makes a sick kid go to his office? I explained that he was very young (actually, Dr. Stein had graduated NYU medical school before World War I) and didn’t believe in house calls. The school official bought this, but just shook her head and said, “What is this world coming to?”
I love the cadence of this blog entry. Nice.
Best of luck to you all on the decision. May OSFO ponder her way to the point where the answer becomes obvious, and that much easier to declare her decision.