What’s In A School, Anyway?

Before we started doing the rounds of the schools trying to get the twins in, I wasn’t very concerned about school. I didn’t believe it was necessary to get them into the “best” school. As far as I was concerned, any school that was middle of the range would do. What did “best” mean, anyway?

To me, when it comes to schools, “best” would probably mean a large school, with enormous grounds, good sports facilities, and generally excellent infrastructure. That means clean toilets, well-equipped science labs, plenty of extra-curricular activities which are given sufficient priority. And, very importantly, well-paid staff. I’d expect teachers to like their subjects, enjoy teaching, and to encourage curiosity and questioning in students. In my experience as a student, it is difficult, but not impossible, to find teachers like that.

I didn’t aspire, necessarily, to the “best” school for my children. I don’t quite know why. Perhaps because these schools tend to be expensive, and hence elitist. I would want my kids to know and mix with people from different economic and cultural backgrounds, to realize that every birthday doesn’t have to be celebrated at McDonald’s, or, worse, TGIF.

Perhaps because I don’t really believe that it is important to always get the “best” for your children; rather it’s important to get them what is good enough, so that they are not brought up in an altogether exalted environment. They should be able to deal with everyday realities like things breaking – literally or figuratively.

I also felt that, even if they weren’t in the “best” school, they’d learn enough at school to be going on with. Whatever they didn’t learn in school, in terms of values, communication skills, social graces and the like, I was willing to risk betting that we could teach them at home. And in terms of just academics, I wasn’t too concerned. As long as I can teach them to be regular, disciplined, conscientious, and, hopefully, interested, the rest would follow. Besides, I’m not worried about them coming first or second in class – as long as they genuinely learn and have fun. What I’d rather see them doing in school, is making friends, learning to interact, learning to play, learning to question and find answers, learning to win and lose and laugh and cry. In other words, learning to live.

For that, I figured, a good enough school would be good enough.

But then we got caught up in the usual rat race of admission and hearing from others about how great this, that, or the other school was. And suddenly “best” became whatever everyone else was talking about. In fact, from what I could make out, “best” came to mean “most difficult to get in to”.

By that definition, our kids have gotten into one of the “best” schools. This school is so “best” that people either swoon over it, or have never heard of it. You know the type – like the restaurants you can only go to by invitation: you’re either dying to get in there (because it is so damn difficult to actually get invited), or you’ve never heard of it. Only a privileged handful have ever actually been inside.

On the inside, though, I’m not sure that it’s really very different. It’s a school, it has classrooms, teachers, students. This school does not have the facilities that would make it rate as “best” by my definition. The main playground, for instance, is a public playground shared with another school and, in theory, open for strangers to walk in to.

All the same, I have no real complaints with their new school right now. I liked the interaction, as I mentioned earlier, and I vehemently disliked the interaction at another school which had the most impressive facilities. (For the record, no, the twins didn’t actually get in there. But, also for the record, I was railing against their admission process right at the time it happened, and we didn’t find out until much later that they hadn’t gotten in, so it wasn’t a matter of sour grapes.) I like the Montessori set up here, to whatever extent I’ve seen so far, and the kids’ teachers seem to be nice. I’ve watched the older kids at Assembly when I go to drop the kids in the morning, and I really like the way they do Assembly too. But, judging by the number of kids at Assembly, this really is a small school. So no – by my definition, this school would rate as decent, pretty good, but not in the “best” category. Probably not worth paying over-the-top fees for, nor commuting 40 minutes each way for. I’d want to keep those burdens for one of the more stereotypical convent schools in the heart of town, where acres of playground and a swimming pool are included in the school premises.

Not that I’d even dream of changing their school now that they’ve started. But what I’m really wondering about is, what differentiates ok, from good, from best? Is it one’s own priorities and expectations of a school, or is it just what everyone else says about a school? And is it worth the effort of huge fees and long distances just to get your kids into a school that is on other people’s “best” list?

I Can’t Even Blame This On The Flu

I hate this feeling.

The twins have completed two weeks at school. They seem to be ok. Their role reversal is complete now, I think, with Mrini taking off her shoes and going happily into class, while Tara clings to my legs and wails. I think she’s ok the moment I leave, so I leave promptly, with a smile and a wave. The teacher reports that they are fine. Yesterday, apparently, at break, Tara went and grabbed some chips (wafers) from another kid, then ran and gave half to Mrini. They both sat and ate them together, then Tara went off and stole some more. Gosh, I have to tell them not to steal food! The teacher was thoroughly amused and said it’s ok and that the other girl didn’t even notice. But still.

This week, they’ve been staying for the full session – 8.30-12 noon. They don’t seem to get exceptionally tired or anything. It’s a different story for their mother and chauffeur, though. I’ve only done half of the ten drop-and-pick-up trips per week this week, and I’ve already clocked up 100 km. We’ve been discussing buying a new car, but at this rate, what I need is a new me. Or, at least, I need to get them on to that school bus.

What age is the right age for a school bus? Is below three too soon? Probably, but it depends on who’s doing the driving. Ask the driver, and even two-and-a-half is none too soon. It’s not just about the actual driving – it’s about spending close to three totally non-productive hours every day sitting in a car, stuck in traffic, keeping up an inane flow of conversation with the kids half the time (the other half, even they aren’t there) while fretting about whatever else you could be doing if you weren’t doing this.

On the other hand, it’s difficult for the mother in me to accept that the twins will be just fine in a school bus. I worry that they won’t know where they’re going and what they will find when they get there. I worry that they’ll cry, or want to go to the toilet, and there’ll be nobody to help them. I worry that they’ll feel lost and scared and alone.

But, will I ever really get used to this drop-and-pick-up-ten-times-every-week routine? Will I ever be able to manage it easily?

Yesterday, for instance, was just crazy. I had to go for a meeting for some potential documentation work that I might get (or have got, actually). It was pretty much on the way to their school, but what with tennis before that, and walking home with a carton of 10 litres of milk after that… well, I was really tired by lunch time. Then I didn’t sleep well last night, and was awake by 5 a.m. this morning (though my alarm is set only for 5.45, so I wasted a good 45 minutes of sleep), feeling, if possible, even more tired than when I went to sleep last night.

Yeah, I know… I’m a mother now, this is what I signed up for.

But then things suddenly got worse.

See, I dressed the girls and sent them off to school with their clips in their hair, shoes on their feet, school bags with spare clothes and water bottles packed… and I forgot to pack their tiffin boxes! I mean, I had the damn tiffin boxes ready to go, but I left them lying on the kitchen counter. And I saw them as soon as I got home.

What are my poor girls going to do at break??? I feel terrible. Only two weeks and I’ve already come to this! What’s even worse is that I’m sitting here and stuffing my face with breakfast while I type. What kind of a mother am I? I’m a monster mother. I should actually have driven straight back to their school with the blasted tiffin boxes, but I’m just too tired to even seriously consider the idea. I’ll take them when I go to pick the girls up, and they can eat it then, but what are they going to do when all the other kids are eating? Steal food, again? They’ll be hungry by then, too, because of course they don’t eat much breakfast at 6.30 a.m.

So I’m feeling totally lousy – sorry-for-myself, tired, and guilty, all at once.

Sigh. If I’m not the world’s worst mother yet, I’m working my way up the ladder pretty quickly I think.

Dead Tired – And It’s Only Wednesday

Gawwwwd.

It’s only been a week since the kids started school… and I don’t know about them, but I’m tired. TIRED, actually, is more like it. No wonder many moms who do this make a full-time job out of it. And as for those who have full-time jobs as well, I think they have something in their genes that I just wasn’t born with.

All these days, we used to moan when the kids woke us up between 6.30 and 7.00. Now, I get to wake them up at 6.00. Is this fun for me? No! I don’t want to wake up at 6.00 either, unless it’s for tennis. And getting two sleepy kids to get out of bed, show some signs of life, and drink their milk is clearly not tennis. Not even close.

So we manage to somehow leave the house a little after 8.00 (and from next week, we’ll have to make that 7.30!). We reach their school around 8.40, which is just in time for class at 9.00. Well, it takes that much time to get their hair combed and clipped neatly (well, passably, at least), to get their shoes on, and to get them both to use the toilet. So at 9.00 I leave them to it and rush off – either home, or to waste time and run errands. Having done two hours of wasting time/driving/running errands, I’m back to pick them up at 11.00. By 12-ish we’re home, and I get them changed and get their lunch ready. By 1.30 or so, I can breathe… but not for long. I’m tired already, but I can’t stop now. This is supposed to be ‘my’ time – the time I get to get some of my own stuff done. Reading, writing, studying, or even a bit of work, if I happen to have some. So I grab my lunch and sit down in front of my computer and hardly even notice what I’m eating (which is just as well because usually it’s quite foul anyway). An hour or so later, just as I’m getting into the thick of things, one of the two bedroom doors creaks or groans open and there she is, all bright and smiling. She wants to talk, to sing, to play, to do mischief. But most of all, she wants me – whichever “she” it might be.

So I shut down the computer with half-formed thoughts in half-saved files and devote myself to the two devils and the next thing I know, it’s 8 p.m. The twins are in bed, the cook has come, cooked, and hopefully gone, and it’s time for me to eat dinner and watch some TV or read a book. Work? Violin? Exercise?

Naaaaaah… too tired, too hungry, can’t concentrate now.

Ok, I’m not entirely complaining. Parts of me want to go back to work, but mostly I’ve put that on hold for at least a year or so. Because, if I have to rush around like mad all day even without the work, how could I possibly fit that in? And some parts of what I’m doing now are – really – precious. Like, driving them to and from school and having to sing to them ALL the way – it’s tiring, it’s boring, it’s maddening, but… it’s good, too.

And like watching them for a few moments in school, when they can’t see me and they don’t know I’m there. Seeing the clips on their small heads bobbing around as they sit engrossed in some task or activity. Having them come running, smiling, to me and hug my legs when they see me. Amit hasn’t seen that yet, he hasn’t been there, so only I know what he’s missing. He’s globe-trotting, and making a great career for himself, but look what he’s missing.

There is some frustration in seeing time fly past and seeing how little I manage to achieve out of it. But, on the whole, I think the frustration of struggling to do justice to your work (and I’d want to do at least that, if not more, if I had a job) and seeing your kids’ growing-up years flashing past without being able to properly be a part of it, and probably the stress of just trying always to be in two places at the same time, physically or otherwise… I think those frustrations and the regrets that go with them would be much worse for me. I admire other moms who do this and retain their balance, but I don’t think I can be one of them right now. For me, the challenge is simpler – or at least smaller. How can I still be me? How can I keep some time and space for me? How can I avoid the other trap of being all mother and no person at all? How can I still be a person I’d find interesting to meet and talk to?

I feel like I’m already not that person any more.

Next week, their school timings will be extended to 8.30-12 noon, so that should give me a good chunk of morning hours to accomplish stuff. I also have to be more firm with myself about not doing errands ALL the TIME. I want to devote one morning a week to errands and spend the other mornings doing things that I really want to be doing. So maybe next week things will get better.

Or maybe things will never get better unless I decide to make them better.

Perhaps the first thing is not to give up wanting to be a person, not to slide into being just a mother. Sometimes, it’s so tiring that it’s easier to just let go of the other stuff.

Then again, maybe that’s the influenza speaking.

School, At Last

So, off they went to school again. It was pretty smooth on the whole. We reached early (the given time was 11), and found their class without any trouble. It was in a state of utter chaos, occasionally reduced to momentary silence by the tinkling of a small handheld bell. There were, at a rough count, 25 moving bodies in the room, not counting adults. Adults consisted of three teachers and another mother apart from yours truly.

While the twins gradually found their feet (and hands), I watched the other kids. There were separate short sessions for reading books, singing songs, a circle game (rolling the mat), picture cards, a prayer (in Sanskrit!), and individual activity. Some interaction between kids was tolerated, but not when it became disruptive.

The facilitators (in the Montessori system, you don’t call them teachers) were quite patient and firm with the kids, but also allowed a great deal of latitude. Mrini and Tara both wanted to sit on a sort of low table, which, evidently, was not intended to be sat on. The facilitator, S-aunty, told them both not to, and tried to persuade them to sit on the mat on the ground, but didn’t force the issue.

At any rate, the twins seemed quite comfortable. They watched the other kids, picked some toys themselves, and joined in the picture card group activity. They even used the toilet twice, without incident. (To my relief, it was spanking clean, at least at that particular point in time.) When I stepped out of the room towards the later part of the session, they weren’t in the least bit put out. And, on the way back in the car, they expressed every desire to go back tomorrow. I suppose that’s the most one can hope for.

For my part, I’m eagerly waiting for their school timings to get extended to the full session: 8.30-12.30. That way, I’ll probably have to do the drive twice, drop and pick up, and come all the way home in-between, to spend two whole hours in an empty house. But this way, though only half as much driving, means that I wind up spending practically the whole morning on this school expedition, which is already highly frustrating.

Preparing For School

My idea of preparing the kids for school is talking to them about it (almost incessantly, now) and telling them how much fun they’re going to have and how many new friends they’re going to make (or find). And, of course, getting them clothes, shoes, and so on.

Apparently there’s other stuff I should be doing with them that I haven’t been doing. This was brought home to me recently, in conversation with another mother who has a three-year-old daughter, who will also soon be starting school. “I realized that I have to start getting her ready for school,” this woman said, “so I went and bought the ABC book and I’m trying to get her to learn that.”

I didn’t say anything to her, but I thought to myself, “Oh my goodness! Lady, you and I can never be friends.”

I mean… Getting your almost three-year-old to mug up on numbers and ABC before school!?

The kids already know their ABCs and 123s, and they even know part of their A-for-apples. But. They get it all wrong! They routinely leave out QRSTUV from the alphabet, they jumble up their numbers, and often go, “…5, 6, 7, 8, ten o’clock…” And as for A-for-apple, they usually go “B-for-ball” and then use B-for for everything all the way from pussycat (which should be C-for cat, not C-for-pussycat) to zebra.

And so what? They’re kids, they should get things a little jumbled up. It’s what makes them so adorable. After all, how many people do you know who will solemnly say, “Baba is sleeping, don’t disburt him, ok!”

They have the rest of their lives to get it right, must we start pressurizing them from now?

And besides, if we have to teach them everything at home, what are schools for?

Oh, I forgot. The twins are going to be attending a Montessori school: schools are for playing with toys. I wonder what this other mom would think of that idea.

School Days

May is drawing to a close and June is around the corner. That means, schools re-open here in Bangalore. And that means, a quantum increase in traffic volumes at 8 a.m.

Since I’m not working now and don’t have to join the millions making their daily commute to the workplace, the increase in traffic volumes is largely theoretical for me right now. But for how long?

I’ve just got the letters informing us that the eagerly anticipated day when the twins join their new school is set for 10 June. At first, they will spend only an hour or so at school, and parents have to stay with them. Probably in the second week, they will start following regular hours, 8.30 to 12.30. Then I’ll be spending much of my day in the driver’s seat – literally, unfortunately, not figuratively – with a 15 km round trip twice a day. Not only will the school time traffic suddenly be highly relevant to me, I’ll be part of it.

While the kids starting school means I’ll have a few hours of peace in the morning, which is not a given when Shaba-Aunty is home with the twins, it will also be good for the kids to get out. Last year, when going through the admission process, I kept feeling they were too small for school – but that was then. Now, I no longer think so. They can talk quite a bit now, and have become more socially-oriented: they look forward to meeting their park friends every evening – kids and adults alike – and cry out loud to meet other friends whom they see less frequently. And, keeping them occupied and engaged at home in the morning is full-time work. What’s more, it’s getting more and more difficult to tire them out sufficiently so they’ll fall asleep after lunch. Today they stayed up babbling and playing games for two whole hours, before finally falling asleep! School should take care of that, or so I hope. (How do parents (specially SAHMs) manage in those countries where school starts at age 6???)

So while I’m happy they’re going to be starting school soon (and honestly, the sooner, the better!), what I’m still not sure about is packing them off to school in the school bus. They still seem too small for that experience. Won’t it be scary, being in a bus full of big kids, no known faces around, being trundled around town for 30 or 40 minutes before making it to the only slightly familiar and less scary environment of school? True, there are two of them, and true, too, that other kids their age do it and survive, but still…

I don’t really want to be doing the dropping and picking up chauffeur service, though. It will certainly be fun talking to them on the way to and from school, but it is going to break up the morning in a quite disruptive fashion. Sending them off by bus means I get a whole five hours or so to do my stuff. Getting Amit to drop them on his “way” to work (it’s not really on his way) means investing in another set of car seats. Sigh. Problems, problems.

More interesting – and a bit worrying – is that certain memories that they form now can potentially last forever. Don’t you remember your very early days at school or preschool? I have vague memories of nursery, and even hazier ones of pre-nursery. I remember a friend from pre-nursery – or rather, I remember the name of a friend, and the concept of a friend as someone you did everything together with, more than the person herself. I remember howling my head off in nursery because a boy took my sketch pens and didn’t give them back. I remember another boy (or perhaps the same one) turning his eyelids inside out (boys are gross!) and scaring the hell out of me. I remember, strangely enough, the room that was the nursery or kindergarten room, and my seat in the room. I remember other things about the school, like the building and the grounds, and even the teachers; but those memories formed over the years, as I continued in that school till I was ten. But the earliest of my school day memories must date from a little over three years of age.

And now the twins are going to start collecting their own set of forever memories. I always loved school, my sister pretty much hated it. I wonder why that happens. It is so much easier to enjoy school than to dislike it, I hope I can help my girls to grow to love it and to build a set of happy memories.

First Days at School

On Monday, I took the twins to school. Pre-school/playschool, hereafter called school. We reached at around 11.35, and I sat inside till about 12.05. The girls wandered around, and some of the other kids came up and thrust things into their hands or took things away from them. They didn’t seem to mind either way. At 12.05, when most of the kids had left, at the “teacher”’s suggestion, I went out. The twins, by then, had found their way into the inner room where the toys are kept and were busy tidying up. I was out of sight for 15-20 minutes, but they were fine.

On Tuesday, I left them at the door and waited outside for about half an hour. They didn’t cry, but when they saw me at 12.00, Mrini took my hand and shed a few tears. Not too many. Tara didn’t shed any and wasn’t in any particular hurry to come to me either.

On Wednesday, as I left them at the door, Mrini clung to me and wailed. From outside, I could hear her wailing for the next ten minutes, so I went to the door and asked to be let in. I sat inside for 10-15 minutes, and Mrini clung to me, but stopped crying. Tara spent a few minutes with me, then wandered around on her own. The other kids were all in one room, reciting nursery rhymes. The door was open on Monday, and some kids were out mixing with the twins, but on Wednesday, the door was closed and almost all the kids were inside. When I decided that Mrini had settled down enough, I went out again, and she wailed continuously for the next 20 minutes, till school ended for the day. That was tough, sitting outside, hearing her wailing, knowing that all she wanted was to be with me.

So today, it was with a fair bit of trepidation that I hauled them off to school for the fourth day. Of course, I tried not to let it show. I kept telling them what a great place school was and how much fun they were having and how they had so many friends over there and how they were so lucky that they got to go there again today. What a con! Anyway, I half expected Mrini to start kicking and fighting as we got close, but she was ok right until we got to the door. Then she held on to my finger and didn’t want to go inside. Tara, on the other hand, went in quite willingly. Mrini went in wailing, but to my immense relief, she stopped wailing in two minutes and didn’t resume for the rest of the day. Even when they were let out and she saw me waiting there and came to me, she sort of gave a half sob, then thought the better of it and started smiling! I couldn’t have asked for anything better, after yesterday’s performance.

Please, someone, tell me it’s not going to come back twice as bad tomorrow.

I’m really hoping they settle down and start enjoying school next week, so that when we return from Calcutta, they don’t dread it but are quite happy to go there again. I suppose it can’t be that simple.

Teaching Religion

Now that the twins are going to be starting playschool already, I have to face something I haven’t really given much thought to: religion. Apparently, even these neighbourhood-type playschools teach kids to pray.

Pray? Seriously?? Two-year-olds???

I hadn’t expected to have to teach my kids anything about religion at this age.. Not for a few years yet. But playschools teach prayers, what do you do?

I’m sure there are many who’d argue that it’s never too early to teach kids about god… But my problem is that prayers aren’t about god, not in this format. They’re just word strung together by someone else and chanted or sung by everyone together in public. It’s not as if the kids even know what they’re saying.

When I teach my kids about praying, I’d like them to learn what I believe – that praying is something that can (or even should) be done in private, maybe even in silence, and always with utter honesty and intimacy and sincerity – not using pre-formulated words uttered by rote along with hundreds of others.

I’d like them to learn about god in terms of morals, values, and a guiding philosophy of life, not about the rules and rituals of this religion, or that, or another. I’d like them to know that there are many different religions, but that what matters is not the declaration of belonging to a religion and living by its rules and rituals, but instead practicing “goodness” (for want of a better word) in whatever they do.

Obviously, these are not lessons for a two-year-old, or even a four- or six-year-old.

I know that as they grow, they will meet various religions along the way, and that’s fine. I’m not trying to insulate them from religion per se. What I don’t like is that they should have to “learn” any particular religion in school. Why? I’m not sending them to a seminary (if that’s the word I want). Why can’t normal primary education be divorced from religious education?

Of course, now that I come to think of this whole matter, religion was a part of the schools I went to as well. One was a Convent (need I say more?); then there was a school intended for children of Naval staff (I wasn’t; don’t even ask) and a DAV school (Dayanand Anglo Vedic – there’s a lot of philosophy, history and context to that, but I don’t honestly have a clue), both of which defaulted to Hindu prayers at assembly. Why the naval school should offer up Hindu prayers defeats me, but I suppose they thought they couldn’t just have the school band play merry marching tunes every morning.

So I shouldn’t be surprised that the twins are going to be learning “prayers” along with their colours and numbers and nursery rhymes. The best I can do is to take it as another kind of nursery rhyme… and let them get acquainted with my beliefs when the time comes (and also with Amit’s, which is that there is no god)… and hope that they choose whatever system works best for them.

But really – why do schools teach prayers? And why to two-year-olds? And how can they assume (other than those schools that, like Convents, statedly adhere to a particular religion) that Hindu prayers are best suited to all their students? I mean we do have people of other religions in this country, so if you’re not really affiliated to a particular religion, shouldn’t you just stay away from the whole thing?