Lemonade

Unfortunately, my son was not accepted into the Charter school I had applied to. I know that when Life hand you lemons, you make lemonade. Unfortunately, I'm still in the sour part, and not all that interested in adding sugar yet.

I'm slowly coming to grips with it, but most of my frustration is not at the school itself - but at the actual mechanics of the universe. I understand why the school holds a lottery for extra slots, I understand that my child is "out of district" - which technically puts him at the end of the list. What I don't understand is why I'm continually haunted by bad luck.

When my husband toured the school, they told him we were 99.9% in - that they had never had enough applicants to even hold a lottery. So of course, the year we apply, someone found out that the school offered free all day Kindergarten - and voila! They had over 50 "in-district" applicants from the same community - of which, I can guarantee, 99% applied solely to reduce their daycare costs and not because they are interested in having their child attend the school. (The community has several of its own high quality schools - they just aren't cheap.)

Here's the best part - in the lottery side of things, my son's name came up first - which means had even ONE slot been open, he would have been a shoe-in. Instead, thanks to the influx of "in-district" kids, he's 24th on the list with no chance in hell of making it in. Which means he gets to attend our districted school, which is a known problem school which is currently undergoing a "salvage" operation to try and restore its reputation. I am fully cognizant that a school's government rating does not necessarily reflect the quality of its teachers - factors outside of the school's control can (and do) bring down it's rating . . . but that doesn't change the fact that the school is considered "poor" and a lot of the benefits it has are an attempt to attract new students since every family that can has fled the district.

(Note: my neighborhood is 95% hispanic. For the record, I have nothing against hispanics - even illegal immigrants. Just pay your taxes.)

See the lemons.

When I called my mother to complain, she tried to toss in some sugar with a comment along the lines of "Look at the bright side, if A. is the only non-hispanic kid in the school, he is the right age to pick up languages and he'll be bi-lingual." Not what I needed at the moment.

So my three day spat of hysterics has nothing to do with the school issue really . . . and more to do with the fact that I feel like Job. I feel like God has killed my family, razed my house, murdered my livestock, and burned my crops . . . for no apparent reason. I'm 31, and I'm tired.

So I'm almost ready to add the sugar, and scrape up the pieces once again. I know it's not the end of the World. I'm just tired. And it may take a few days to regain my optimistic outlook. I'm not so far gone that I can't count my blessings. . . and I'm very very greatful to all my friends - especially those who are letting me cry on their shoulder. Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you.