Today, I registered Connor to attend our local public elementary school. He'll start first grade in the fall. As confident as I am that this is a fantastic school, I still almost cried. You see, earlier today, Connor spent some time painting during summer camp at his Waldorf school. Just like every other time he has painted this past year, he was given three jars of paint - red, yellow, and blue, a high quality paint brush, and a wet piece of paper affixed to a painting board that the painting would dry on. It's a beautiful setup, and one I can now replicate at home since I finally purchased painting boards.
When I arrived at the public school, children were painting in the flower garden out front. Their supplies? They had one of the crappy plastic paint trays where you have to dip your paintbrush in water to free the paint. That was not inspiring.
But I turned in my deed showing that I lived in the neighborhood, a health form, several other random required forms, and that was it. Connor was enrolled in first grade.
I sent the following note to Ed:
"Your son is now registered to be a tiny cog in a very large machine, where he will be issued sub-standard art supplies and asked to thrive.
Welcome to government schools."
So, in short, we are now officially part of the problem.
Elaine
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