Grovel, Grovel

Cringe, Bow, Stoop, Faaallllll

So now you know. JEDA 202--I like Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals, can quote from pretty much all of them at will, lip sync a mean Jesus Christ Superstar (in its entirety) when drunk, and even found stuff to like about the regrettable Aspects of Love. Not exactly something I advertise, but all too true. Judge me if you must. Whatever. Not what I came here to talk about.

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As most of you already know, due to some rather bullshit power politics and money mongering, Missy did not get accepted to pre-school at The International School of Bergen next fall. They'll tell you, "No, no. It's just because we're such a damn fine institution, and everybody wants to be us, see...record high number of applicants...record low number of students leaving. Blah, blah blah." It's all a lie. It's all about oil, and they thoroughly screwed me over just because my husband isn't one of their corporate whores.

I'm sorry. Do I sound bitter? Am I not explaining myself very clearly? Allow me to speak more plainly. The school's board of trustees recently decided that they want the student body to be comprised solely of rootless transients and gypsies children of temporarily relocated employees of large oil companies. The tuition for corporate sponsorship is more than twice that which we mere mortals in the private sector are expected to pay. So it makes sense in a greedy, world-gone-money-mad sort of way, that the school would seek out these higher fees to the exclusion of the actual citizens of the community in which the school is located.

The upshot of all of it is that, despite having been loyal to this school for the past 5 years, paid my tuition in full and on time every month; despite even, Boy being currently enrolled there for Kindergarten next year, Missy is persona non grata--wait-listed. And, in case you hadn't picked up on it, I'm pissed.

I know from my many, many conversations with the secretaries in the office that there are, in actuality, still a few places available. Rumor in the hallways has it that these places are most likely being held open for corporate sponsored students who may or may not drift in through the course of the year. Though, from what I can gather of various things the secretaries have told me, whether or not to grant one of these open spots to someone on the waiting list is up to the director's personal discretion. She may yet decide to do it, and I know that Missy is rather high up there on the waiting list--not first, apparently (though she bloody well ought to be), but close enough that she's got a shot if Madam Director is feeling generous.

To this end, in a last ditch, all too blatant, more than likely too little too-late effort to raise my seemingly sub-terranean profile at the school, I showed up at the monthly PTO meeting yesterday. Fucking hell--make that four amendments to JEDA 101! I am shameless in my desperation.

Spring fairs, family outings, collect this, organize that, bake two cakes, and don't forget to courtsey on your way out the door. I HATE COMMITEE WORK! And none of it--NONE OF IT--is going to help get Missy enrolled next year. But I have to do something.

I want to remind someone of the 7 years worth of National Geographics I donated to the library last year, but how do I bring it up?

I've considered offering to pay the entire year's tuition in one lump sum, but we can only afford to do that for Missy (or Boy, but not both), and I've been reliably cautioned that it would be unwise to remind them that this is all really about money.

So what?

I wait, is what. I'm making some calls on the possibility of getting her in somewhere else. But I'm dragging my feet. I don't want her anywhere else. I want her there--with Boy. I want what's right, and it pisses me off that I have to beg for it. But it may literally come to that.

Also--oil is evil! Seek alternative sources of energy NOW!

P.S. Jilly. Baby. No offense, eh? You know I love you even though you're one of them. Right?