Agony: Defined

I've been getting lots of variations on this question lately:

"When do you find out about grad school?"
"You haven't heard yet?"
"When did you apply? Wasn't it months ago?"

So, here's the skinny on the whole process: basically, it's pretty terrible. It's agony for a few reasons; namely, it's this way because it's more competitive than anyone can possibly imagine, it's seemingly random, and because it all boils down to hopeful students being at the mercy of academia (which we know moves at the speed of evolution).

Firstly, the competition: I know that you all love me and think that because I've gotten everything I've ever applied for, that this is just "Rachel panic," and that it's not really anything to worry about. Well, I've got news for you all, this is, by far, the most competitive thing I've ever attempted to get into. For example, UVA, my top choice, typically gets anywhere from 100 to up to 4-500 applicants a year. It's considered the "ivy league" of public education (I'm not making this stuff up--Wikipedia it, even they know these basic facts--I aim high, no?). They let in around 12 PhD candidates each year. That's right, 12. Go ahead, do that math, because I can't. According to my GRE math score, I actually can't.

*P.S. While I know I would never get into Harvard (the real Ivy League), I actually did look at their program, and I made a conscious decision against it because it relied too heavily on Latin-based texts. Not my bag. Still, it made me feel good to reject Harvard. That's how I'll remember it, and it's how I expect you to remember it too.

Not to worry, GW, my second choice (only because it means Collin doesn't have to switch schools, if I get in there--not because it's actually my second choice; in a perfect world, it's my first choice by leaps and bounds), is actually on par with Harvard, Yale and the like. Oh, and it's a private school, which makes tuition beyond unbelievably expensive. Even with grants and the GI bill, we may have to eat Top Ramen for five years. Competition there? Whoa. Don't even get me started. They get more applications than UVA for roughly the same number of spots. They have a really famous Medievalist in their department, my favorite Medievalist in fact (does it make me nerdy to have one?), and his existence there alone garners lots of applicants who want to work with him (I'm not exception). It's like rock star groupies, only for nerds.

Which brings me to competition at Catholic; this is the least competitive of the three schools, but still an incredibly competitive one to get into. Why? Because not only do they have a great Medieval Department for literature, they are known for their Medieval History Department. They are an amazing choice, if I can get past all the priests skulking about the campus for seminary. It's also the only school that point-blank asks, on the application, "religious affiliation." I decided to put, "N/A" instead of "I don't believe in your nonsense, but I'll take some wine." Oh, and if this is my only option, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be sick the day that the whole campus participates in the Pro-Life protest. Either way, they also get into the hundreds of applications, for about the same amount of spots as UVA.

For all three of these applications, at least one person told me, "are you sure you want to do this?" Apparently, this is something, I've learned, that everyone is told during their application process. It's an incredibly soul-crushing thing to be told, as you embark on this ridiculously difficult thing to even attempt (let alone the actual education part!). Each time, it made me cry and doubt myself, but I persevered, and completed the 100+ page application packet for each school. Hitting "send" on the packet literally made me feel sick to my stomach, because that was it; no going back. That was November 19th. NOVEMBER 19th!

UVA's applications were due December 15th. GW and CUA have open enrollment, which means that they take (typically) 4-6 weeks, upon receipt of an application, to reply. Pshaw! Clearly, it has been three long months. Three horribly long months.

In that three months I have received four deceptively thin envelopes from CUA telling me various inane things like my file was complete, or that my letters had been received, or that I'd been assigned a student number to check my application. Seriously, I'm surprised I made it from the mailbox to the house without having a coronary with each one. Other than that, there's been nothing. Is this normal?

Yes. Apparently, from massive amounts of research, I have discovered that 4-6 weeks is like when people tell you that you might gain between 15-30 pounds when you are pregnant. It's an insane range, and you may gain 75 lbs (Jessica Simpson). There's an awesome website where people like me post their admissions results daily, so you can see if the schools you've applied to have started sending notifications, and it's just you that hasn't heard (which would be a bad sign--or, good depending). It's saving my life, because I know that despite my not having heard a word yet, no one else has either. No one. Not a single notification from the English Department at any of the three schools that I applied to. Phew.

Why would it be good to not hear, when others have? Well, it's sort of like being second string. The school sends out its first round picks, and because most people have applied to multiple schools, they have to decide which offer to accept (if they've gotten more than one). When they refusals come back, the schools have "extras" to hand out to the next round. So, if you didn't get rejected in the first round, but you know the first round was already notified, it's a good bet to hang in there, your day may still come. It's more agony, but it's still possible!

So, what makes the decision? Who the flip knows? There's tons of stuff out there to "help" you apply and put your best face forward, but in the end, it seems as much a crapshoot as anything else. There's all kinds of stuff about the school being a good "fit" for you, and vice versa; as in, I shouldn't apply to a school that has a strong American Lit Department, but only one Medieval professor. But, in the end, it seems like luck half the time. Each package has a general GRE score (blergh!), usually the subject area GRE score (double blergh...seriously, I did horribly on this), writing sample(s), letters of reference, a statement of purpose (hardest thing I've ever written), and all kinds of little things (transcripts, CV, etc). Talking to friends through the process, someone will get into one school and then rejected from another; meanwhile, someone they know gets into their rejection school with an inferior package in all respects. It's incredibly frustrating, because while you sit here agonizing, and wondering if your package is perfect, it may not make a lick of difference.

Additionally, you wait. And wait. And wait. I've been close enough to the world of academia for long enough now to know that professors are busy people. They are teaching, dealing with difficult students and trying to write their own papers for publication. So, when these packages come down the pipe, they don't have tons of time to read them. So, their department chair probably drops hundreds of them on the desk and says, "two weeks," which turns into six. And so on. Meanwhile, us poor, hopeful students, are running to the mailbox, or checking our email inboxes sixteen thousand times a day for an update to our online application, all in vain.

So, that's what this is like. Yes, I applied three months ago. No, I don't know if I've gotten in. No, I have no idea what my chances are, but they aren't good; but, neither are anyone else's! The only ding in my application's armor is my GRE scores (did I mention...blergh!).

This is what my day looks like lately:
-Wake up--immediately roll over and check my email before I get out of bed to see if any admissions offices did a batch process email overnight, telling students to check their application status
-Get up--get online and check all my applications anyway
-Pretend that I'm done--really, I'm not; check gradcafe to see if anyone got notified since I went to bed
-Go on about my day with an ear trained for the mailman--CUA notifies via mail, so I attack the mailman every day.
-Continue with  my day--Go online about lunchtime and check gradcafe for results again
-Review the admissions pages for all three schools--AGAIN. Agonize over the fact that some say 4-6 weeks and UVA says Jan-April for decision notifications.
-Get ready for bed--Go online and check my applications and grad cafe

Anyway, that's the reality of the situation. If anyone wants to send something in the mail, in the next few weeks, please don't send large envelopes. You're killing me. Every large envelope is like a heart attack waiting to happen; I can't take another false alarm (I'm looking at you Fredericksburg Academy admissions packet and Clinic paperwork!). And, if you want to send a hug, go ahead. Anyway, this was a long babbling update, but I thought I might give you the info because it feels good to vent! This is very, very, very, VERY stressful. I told Bryon the other day that waiting for this is like someone telling you that someday soon, you will either be greeted with the best Christmas-like day of your life, or you will be hit by a bus; but, you don't know which and you don't know when.

No Pics of the Boy This Time

We've been taking lots of pics lately because we are trying to sell stuff on Craigslist. So, we have been downloading the camera every few days, and advertising. Collin wants a really expensive toy for his birthday, and we are caving and giving him a party this year too. He's practically never had one, so it's time. Oh, and if we (meaning I) didn't do the balloon thing for him (filling his room), he might think his birthday was ruined. In other words, we are being smart, and trying to offset costs with getting rid of crap that we never use. A room full of balloons isn't cheap, folks!

This results in lots of snapshots. Usually, we have lots of snapshots of the child. I've been happy with this side effect of snapshots of say, the Power Wheels Jeep. But, this time around, I discovered that we have absolutely zero snapshots of the child, and twenty or so shots of the dog in various states of existence.

In most of them, she's in various states of repose. Did you know that our wonderful new couches have to be wiped down with a damp cloth about once a week because she drools on them? The joy of a dog with lips the size of Steven Tyler's.

Or, she's just hanging around, looking like she could eat our house, us or the couch at any given moment. Since she has a penchant for actually eating the house (she likes walls), this is not really as much of a joke as I'd like it to be. Thank goodness for renting, sometimes!

She has been known to gnaw on her own toys from time to time, but she goes through them at an alarming rate. We bought her two new toys at Target yesterday. We had to throw one out within 20 minutes. Yep, brand new toy lasted less than a half an hour. Seriously.

She goes to the vet this week for a booster shot and a nail clipping (because she hates it and wrestles with all her might to object, and when a dog that size wrestles you, you submit). So, we'll get a new weight on her. My guess? 130'ish? She's massive. And no, she's not done growing.

She's 11 months old and she'll grow for another six months or so. She might have another growth spurt, but nothing major. She'll get another few inches in length and height, and probably another handful of pounds. Oh, and yes, she's sweet and wonderful, unless she thinks she hears any type of noise, at which point she thinks she's Kujo and must protect her family. I wouldn't want to be a leaf blowing by, or God forbid, a burglar, because that girl has one scary bark on her. I'm glad to be on the protected side of her wrath.

I'm excited to do this next photo download because I took about ninety thousand pics of Collin doing science experiment day while Daddy was at work. We had a blast. Volcanos, acids and bases, all that messy, fun stuff. He wants a whole jug of vinegar just for his own personal use the next time Daddy goes to the commissary. And, he's insisting that we buy food coloring this time, because you know, white volcano eruptions into a cookie sheet are just not messy enough!

Happy Valentine's Day

This sweet little boy is busy making Valentine's Day cards for his classmates. In one year he went from moaning and whining about having to sign his name on every, single card, to willingly signing not only his own name, but writing his friends' names too. Oh, and he's putting special stickers on all of them, and has insisted on creating little treat bags for them. Thankfully, with a class of only 11 students (they got a new kid), we can buy treat bags for all the kids, and it's not going to kill us. Woe to the day when he goes to a school with a reasonable class size. His generosity will have to be nipped in the bud.

Anyway, he's cute, sweet and perfect, and I thought the general population (namely, our family) should be informed of this. Oh, and he's turning six next month. Six! I can't believe that is happening. It seems wholly incorrect, as if some years have been skipped. He has stated, in no uncertain terms that he wishes to continue having birthdays beyond this one, but that he does not want to get any older, nor does he want to increase in size. In other words, he would like to continue an annual present haul, but would not like any of the negative repercussions of aging. Smart boy. 

Other Stuff Has Happened Too

We interrupt your daily lives to let you know that this happened:

CHRISTMAS!!! (yeah, I know I'm behind--I told you last time that I wouldn't be much better than I was before).

He looks excited, no? I know it's not the greatest shot, picture-speaking, but it pretty much captures the mood of the moment, I think. This is what his reaction was to seeing the bounty underneath the tree, as he ran to the family room. Ah, to be five.

As always Christmas morning is always over too quickly. And, I know the years that he will wear a silly hat like this are limited. I'll take it while I can get it.

Although, knowing Collin, he might wear one every year. He's kind of a goofball like that.

We have had an excessive number of "Winter Weather Advisories," snow days and delayed starts for Collin's school in the past few weeks, all for 1/2" to 1" of snow, or even for some sleet. Being from Michigan, I can't account for the Virginia area's general trepidation for all things winter.

This is Collin's first snow day. He was utterly thrilled to wake up to his first real snow. He couldn't get outside fast enough, until he realized that gloves do, in fact, get wet and then your hands get cold. This revelation was decidedly unpleasant. By the time I got to the camera, this was his overall impression of snow.

That's my boy.

Not to worry, hot chocolate fixed everything. To be fair, he may have been equal parts disgruntled at wet gloves and the poor functionality of the "sled" that Daddy had tried to rig out of the bottom of Eddie's old travel cage. In other words, Bryon tried to push him down the hill in our back yard on a large, flat, broken piece of plastic. Guess what, it didn't work, and Collin was disappointed.

Oh, and Daphne says "hey," and that she's still giant. She's taken to sleeping most of the day, except for the moments that she's terrorizing the villagers (us). She enjoys the snow a great deal because she treats it like her own personal buffet/playground. She's pretty convinced that if she puts her face down and just opens her mouth and runs, she can scoop up every last bit of snow before we drag her back inside. She usually gets a fair amount. She also nudges up loose leaves or sticks in this process and thinks that they have been placed there for her amusement. You haven't seen anything until you've seen a 130'ish pound dog pounce on a leaf, cat-style. It's quite a sight.

It's Christmas Eve!!

**A disclaimer: this will be a photo dump :) I will attempt to put them in coherent order with the following (long) text, but I cannot promise anything. I can promise to try to blog more frequently (sorry, grandparents), but that promise will be empty. We're just too busy when school is in session. I'll make a good faith attempt at it though, I swear. So, without further ado, I bring you...a few more weeks of stuff...

Collin had his Christmas program at school last week. It was awesome, as always, if not a little...well, odd. Let's start with the awesome, shall we? First of all, Collin was in it, and you can't beat that, can you? Second of all, he was wearing reindeer antlers and a sweater vest. I know that the days on which we get to witness this sort of adorable wardrobe display are woefully limited, so I was in bliss. And finally, because Collin goes to a big-ish school, they have a real auditorium, which meant that every parent there got a, wait for it, seat! And, not just a seat, but a seat from which they could see their child. It was amazing. As much as miss his old California school, I do not miss the standing-room-only holiday performances (that you could only attend if you go there hours in advance of start time). We got to this performance ten minutes early and were in the third row. The third row! Huzzah!

Anyway, on to the weird. Even though Collin goes to a private school, it is Pre-K (age 3) through 12th grade. That would be a ridiculous holiday program, no? So, this was just the lower school (PK3-5th grade). The Middle School does a choral concert and the Upper School does a play.

The music teacher began the show by saying, "Today will be a little strange," and she wasn't kidding. The show consisted of five, yes FIVE, numbers by the fifth graders because they are, as the music teacher said, "the top of the heap." This would not have been so bad if each number didn't consist of multiple songs. The first number was a chime demonstration of FIVE songs, three of which she had arranged herself (the other two she followed the tradition Suzuki arrangement, so they were recognizable). It lasted approximately 25 minutes. Oy. Their second number was something called "Tinikling" which was some sort of traditional dancing/hoping over sticks. But, she had the entire fifth grade class up there, participating in an uncoreographed number, so it was really just a gaggle of awkward, almost pubescent children, wiggling until it was their turn to jump, or pretend to jump, because they were too awkward to do it with legs that were too long to wrangle into doing their bidding. Finally, they had their singing number, for which they sang two carols that no one had ever heard of, in the round, making them even further unrecognizable as songs. It was quite the spectacle.

Between numbers, she was in charge of ushering the other classes on and off stage, and providing them with their props, etc. She was quite entertaining to watch, perhaps more so than the show. She'd snatch the boxes of props from the regular teachers when they were 90% done handing them out, and finish it in what was evidently "her way," which to us lay people, looked exactly the same. She'd flit about, "checking things," that looked like nothing, but held up the start of each number by endless minutes, turning an hour long program into quite an epic-lengthed show.

For the first half of the show or so, I thought it was just Bryon and I that noticed this music teacher gone mad with power and control, but as we looked around, it was quite clear that everyone thought it odd, and even the director of the school was looking at her like she was insane, and looking at the kids on stage with mixed feelings, as if she were proud of them for working so hard to perform, but discouraged that they were being showcased like this. It was a look that is quite difficult to describe. But, when the director of the school is caught, repeatedly checking her phone, it might be a sign that your show has lost its luster, and is running too long, as this woman is not one to find the children boring.

It was quite the eye-opener as to why Collin says music is his least favorite extra class. He goes to music, art, foreign language, library, computer and p.e. Obviously, he loves p.e., but he adores Spanish and art, and on some days, his favorite is whichever he went to that day. However, it's never music, because as he says, "she makes me sing."

Collin performed quite well, however. And, he didn't make a big goof of himself, that is, until he realized that he could knock his antlers onto his face like sunglasses. Then, it was all over.

He got pretty excited by that idea, and what you don't see, is that when he returned to his seat, he was so wound up, that he bit his own coat off his seat and threw it around like a dog with a bone. It was quite ridiculous. By chance, our seats were in the row directly across the aisle from the Kindergarten row, so we had to watch helplessly as our child acted like a rabid dog, and then be disciplined by his teacher.

So, enough about the program, and onto the more pressing news: it's Christmas Eve!! I can't be more excited about this. I used to love Christmas when I was little, but having Collin has made me love it more than I ever did as a child, I'm sure of it. There is no day of the year that is more fun for me than Christmas; I get to see him light up with  pure joy and energy (not that he has a shortage of energy any other day). This morning he knocked on our door, dark and early, and said, "I can't go back to sleep," in an adorable and meek little voice. Me neither kiddo, me neither! I'd been"up" for hours. So, I sprang out of bed and ran to his room with him, shouting, "IT'S CHRISTMAS EVE!!!" and we got up and played.

Collin's had a busy week at home, and at school prior to today, of course. He's made gingerbread houses (both there and at home).

At school, even though his class only has eleven students, I was reminded yet again, why I don't teach kindergarten. Oy, the noise, the mess, the chaos. It was so much fun! But, as I left, it occurred to me that it was only 10 am. His teachers had to deal with those kids, those insanely wound up kids, for the rest of the day! They don't get paid enough. Whatever they are being paid, it isn't enough.

He was equally enthralled with the home-constructed house. At home, he wasn't limited to three pieces of candy (well, not until after he'd eaten almost all the candy anyway). 

We took our Christmas tree picture yesterday. It was a bit of a bummer, but happy, nonetheless. We thought we might replace the tradition of taking it in front of the Disneyland tree with going to the National Mall and taking it in front of the White House Tree, but it is so freaking cold, that we decided against it. In truth, pure laziness won out yesterday.

We have been enjoying just bumming around in our sweats and pajamas, and doing next to nothing most days of this vacation. When the idea of actually getting dressed, driving the metro, and then walking in the freezing cold was presented, it seemed like an awfully big commitment. So, we opted to attempt a photo in front of our own tree, and try to include the animals. This turned out to be a feat in and of itself.

Homer would concede to sitting on the couch, but would not, under any circumstances, be persuaded to look in our direction, so long as the dog was involved. Daphne would not, under any amount of coaxing, be persuaded to sit or lay down in front of us, near the tree. She would, however, lay on the couch, with much prompting and with many treats, an absurdity in itself, as she sleeps there all the time. I think she was so interested in why she couldn't be prancing about, that she didn't want to be there just then. Getting her to lay there was half the battle, getting her to look at the camera, or even toward it, and be remotely still was yet another battle. While she is enormous, it is easy for most people to forget, she is still very, very much a puppy.

Case in point: Daphne, acting very much like a ridiculous puppy. 

Try getting a puppy to sit still when they aren't sleeping. I tried putting a Santa hat on her. Forget about that. That was crazy talk. Oh, and for those inquiring minds, my puppy weighs over 102 pounds now (she weighed 102 at the vet last week, and she gains every day--literally, every day, at this age).

She's so heavy now, that when she sits in the car, she sets off the seatbelt alarm, and initiates the airbag sensor, as she is heavy enough to indicate an "adult" passenger is sitting in the front seat.

Our beast: refusing to ride in the back seat (insisting on being ALL the way in the front), and being foiled by what she perceives as a huge jump from the floor to the bed.

Alas, these are the best two shots we have. Somehow, we lost Collin's Jack sweatshirt. It was devastating to discover this yesterday. We tore the house apart looking for it. All I can think of is that we left it in California, the last time we were there.

I haven't seen it in a while, but we haven't needed it, or worn it in a while either. So, he wore my t-shirt. Time to replace it, I guess! It was starting to fit him anyway! It's still crazy to think of how big it was the first year that he wore it. What a silly tradition, right? But that's what traditions are all about, your family, and your silliness. It's definitely our silliness.

Overall, we've been doing the normal stuff: putting up decorations, and the like. This was the day I took the GRE (patooey) for the second time, and that we put up our tree and decorations.

Collin learned that he can climb trees, quite effectively.

And, he saw Santa Claus. He told him a joke, and Santa gave him a hat, which he wore all day, including through the movie, Rise of the Guardians, that we saw that afternoon.

Oh, and he met Belle. It wasn't at Disneyland (boo), but we went to a play. A real play! I was nervous, because it was his first one, but he did great. I was a little afraid that he would be bored because it was Beauty and the Beast, not exactly a "boy" play. He was so enthralled that I don't think you could have dragged him out of there. He's in love with Belle, of course, and thinks she's the most beautiful girl in the world (after me, obviously).

He looks a little bit like a stud here, no? 

Today, we are making some felt snowmen, and some Star Wars and Christmas cookies for Santa. And, we are finally cleaning some bathrooms that are in desperate need of a wipe down. That's our big day. Oh, and we are staring at the clock and waiting for bedtime, so we can put out presents and get very, very excited!

Well, some of us remain confused by life. Mainly, Daphne, who wants to know what that beeping is that comes from the camera.

It seems to happen every time I put it in front of me to take a picture. Strangely enough, there's either a blur of gray in most pictures lately, or this confused dog staring at the lens, waiting for a beep. Silly girl.  She's getting a stocking tonight too. Santa Paws will be visiting her and Homer and bringing lots of treats. What a fun day!

We Continue to Exist

Not only have we been absurdly busy, but our camera has been intermittently broken; so, forgive me for not updating the "world" on the happenings of the McClain Clan.

For example: The Fourth of the July--yeah, we had that here too. It was normal; well, except Collin had to do sparklers one-handed. 

Oh, and family (almost all of you) has visited. Collin summarily displayed his typical personality on all accounts. 

Here's the gist of updates: I got hired at Montgomery College in Rockville, MD right about the same time that we enrolled Collin in Fredericksburg Academy. This is not an ideal situation, because the days I teach, I commute an insane amount. Okay, insane doesn't even come close to describing it. But, we are managing it. Oh, and teaching freshmen and "remedial" freshmen. Oy. It's a lot of work. I like it, but it's a lot, lot, lot of work. The boy loves his school, and to me, that makes the whole thing worth it, commute and all. 

Perhaps the most important (fun) thing that happened in the past few months was the Maryland Ren Faire. Whoa, Nellie was this a HUGE Renaissance Faire. The park is built to accommodate it, and it was a beautiful day. Collin rode a pony; get this, for free! The pony rides were free! Maybe this is normal everywhere, but I'm used to paying extra for everything at a place like this. I'm surprised when they don't charge for toilet paper at the port-a-potties. So, when it was free pony rides, I couldn't throw him on that beast fast enough. Apparently, there is a 3 ride limit for the day. Whatever. Once was enough for him, but he had a great time. 

Other than that, the dog is still doing great. She has her moments of "STOP ACTING LIKE A PUPPY!"But, she's actually pretty wonderful. She lives up to her "Great Dane" reputation most of the time. She's fiercely loyal to us already; she's incredibly lazy (most of the time--unless she's spazzing out and attempting to eat the entire house, literally). She's also giant. When I finally got around to uploading the miscellaneous broken pictures from the camera, it was like looking at a different dog. I don't realize how huge she is until I see how much she's grown. Sure, every man, woman and child that sees her says, "whoa, is that a horse?" or, "what kind of dog is that? It's huge!" but, to me, she's just goofy ol' Daphne. It's remarkable when I see how little she was. 

This is a ridiculous picture of Bryon, but an adorable picture of Daphne. When we first got her, she looked like this. 

Now, she is this big. Turnabout is fair play in this house, so I present you with an equally unflattering picture of me (note the absurd hat--my head was cold). But, you get the idea of how damn tall she is. Fear not, we were playing tag; she wasn't about to eat me. 

Or, for a closer look, the look I think is more impressive, she has a giant head. Oh, and she has an equally giant tongue. 

I found this picture towards the end of the memory card (where Bryon was testing the camera) and thought, why is there a picture of the family room? Then I looked closer and couldn't stop giggling. Too cute, right? Big girl. 

Overall, she has become a happy part of the family. While poor Eddie was never, ever allowed on the furniture, except for our bed, Daphne has flat-out rejected that rule. She's too big to argue with about that, so she has adopted her own spot on the couches (namely, as close as she can get to me without crushing my lungs). She's been known to sit on my lap, or across my legs. Danes prefer to be touching you at all times. It's charming until they have a bad dream and insist on sharing a Queen bed with two people. Anyway, they are cute when they are sharing a big couch with the family. 

Nothing too exciting has happened (thankfully) since the "incident" involving a bowl. Bryon is still working a lot, and now I'm working and, we balance our schedules. I just finished submitting all my doctoral applications. The whole process was probably the most disheartening thing I've ever done. Not a single person I dealt with gave me an encouraging word, or suggested that I had the slightest chance of getting into any school, anywhere on the planet. Apparently, getting into a doctoral program in literature is like getting a spot on the space shuttle. Who knew? Nothing makes you feel like a failure quite like applying to something for which everyone tells you that you have no shot at. Suddenly, all your major accomplishments, which formerly felt so illustrious, feel totally shoddy and shallow. Anyway, I applied to three schools and if I'm lucky, I'll get into one. One. We'll see. Cross your fingers for me. My goal is to be called Dr McClain before Bryon is called General McClain. I want to screw with the protocol office when we get to that point. I've decided that I will pitch a fit if they address us as General and Mrs. Great life goal, right? Don't worry, I came up with something much more eloquent for my admissions essays!  

So, forgive the randomness of the shots, but here's our life, more or less, over the last few months. 

Collin's Big Change

Since we hadn't arrived in D.C. yet, Bryon had to select the school Collin would attend without any help. He took all the parameters that we discussed, and did a pretty good job. Unfortunately, there are a very, very limited number of Montessori options in our area. The traffic patterns around here are comparable, if not worse to L.A., so, while there may be another Montessori, say in Manassas, it is almost inaccessible to us, because the afternoon commute (or the morning, in the other direction) would be impossible. This turned out to be a moot point anyway, as none of the other Montessori "options" were feasible for other reasons (more on that later).

Anyway, as last year progressed, I couldn't shake the feeling that while we at a Montessori school, a philosophy and education that I've been nothing but happy with, I was not happy with this school, and furthermore, that this school was not living up to the reputation of the Montessori way. My gut reaction on the first day was hard to shake, and I tried to suppress it and give the school a fair shake, but the school continuously disappointed me.

Firstly, the school was a filthy disaster. Montessori prides itself on cleanliness and organization, and in teaching these skills to children as a way of ordering their environment, themselves and teaching them to hardware patterns for learning. This place didn't seem to follow the basic fundamentals of this part of the philosophy. Sure, their room was set up in the same core areas, like most Montessori rooms (practical life, sensorial, etc), but the carpet was dirty, the shelves were cluttered, the walls were too busy with too many posters, etc. This seems like a minor complaint for a preschool, but when you walk into a standard Montessori room, the very last thing you think is, "gee, this place looks cluttered." In fact, if you aren't used to it, or you don't understand how it works, or haven't seen it in action, you think, "do the kids have enough to look at, or enough to do?"

Furthermore, aside from disarray, they never had any soap in the bathroom and the plumbing was broken. The boys room had a urinal and three stalls. The boys loved using the urinal because of the novelty of it, and because it was nice and low. This would be fantastic, if the urinal flushed. Instead, it filled to the brim with urine every day, and didn't flush. I have no idea how they emptied it every night (a bucket, a plunger?). But, I tried flushing it once, in disgust, and it didn't work. Collin told me as much as well. Since there was no soap in the bathroom, I find a urine filled urinal, coupled with the stall  next door, which Collin called, "the dirty one," abhorrent.

The school used chopped up, recycled tires as mulch in their playground. I don't have a particular problem with this, other than the fact that they are absolutely filthy. Kids get dirty. I get that. But, run your hand over your tire sometime and see what happens. Imagine your kid rolling around in a pile of that for a couple of hours every day, caked in sweat, sometimes with a runny nose, and then being unable to wash his hands because he doesn't have any soap. Oh, and then he has to eat lunch like that, with his hands near his mouth, eyes and nose. He came home so filthy, that I often had to take him directly to the bathtub before he could play. It is my belief that a good preschool teaches some fundamental life skills like how to wash hands, how to recognize when personal appearance is awry, and how to wipe one's nose in a tissue, for example. When 30 kids are covered in head-to-toe soot, why aren't teachers working to help them learn to clean themselves?

Some of this I could get over if he didn't come home injured and humiliated, more than once. On his first day of school, he came home and said that girls cornered him on the play structure and stood on his head, telling him that no boys are allowed on there. From his recounting of the incident, it sounded like it went on for an extended period of time. I couldn't believe that a grown up didn't intervene, and let it go on for so long. I called the school immediately, and I was told that a playground supervisor did intervene but that kids will be kids and that it was just a game. I wasn't comfortable, but was willing to concede that you always have to take a five year-old's story with a grain of salt, and just advocate on your child's behalf, and hope for the best.

Two days later, he told me that a few teachers and aides kept checking his pants all day, accusing him of having had an accident. He hasn't had an accident in three years. Of course, they don't know that, nor would they have any reason to, or any reason to believe me, should I tell them so. He was embarrassed, and the children called him "baby," all day because of it. Apparently, he had gone to use the restroom and found a large piece of poop on the floor. He reported it to a teacher, who accused him of having done it himself. Not believing him when he refused to admit it, they continuously checked his pants all day long for evidence of that accident, or further ones.

Throughout the year, there were countless "little" things that upset me. He came home with a large bite on his shoulder that no one at school knew anything about. I showed them the next day, and instead of being concerned about having been ignorant of such an injury that occurred during school time, or that my kid got hurt, they scolded Collin for not telling them. He came home sunburned after water fun day, despite having sun block, and a form on record instructing the school to administer it. He was so burned that it took all weekend for it to cool down. That same day, they lost his clothes between changing from his bathing suit back into his school clothes, and they had to use his "spare" clothes, which were a pair of long pants (in 100-degree heat). I found him sunburned, drenched in sweat, playing outside in long pants. No one thought anything was wrong with this, and they were quite put out that I forced them to help me find the clothes.

As the first day of school approached, I kept getting a panicked feeling him my heart, that I was putting him back in a school that wasn't right for him. He was progressing in his academics and he was still reading and writing well at or beyond his age-level. He was even doing double-digit math. But, I didn't feel comfortable there. I had to do something about it. But, we already put our deposit down for the following year, which put us in a pickle. Their contract says that if you withdraw your child at any point during the year, you are responsible for the entire year's tuition. Still, I was losing sleep about it. I kept picturing that pit in my stomach that I felt every time I dropped him off.

Then, I saw a little girl at his summer swimming class wearing a Creme de la Creme uniform. That kicked it off. Creme is a school about a mile from our house. On a whim, I called them and we went and checked it out THAT afternoon. They were amazing. They had a water slide, multiple playgrounds and the place looked like Disneyland inside. Included in tuition was two hot meals a day, and aftercare. It was more than impressive. I made them go over every inch of their curriculum, showing me every book and workbook they use for the kindergarten program. While the place was amazing, Collin was already capable of completing the work at their school. He was too advanced for their program. But, now that I'd started looking in earnest, I felt compelled to continue.

I looked for Montessori first. No one bothered to contact me in return, or they were full. So, we had to come to terms with the fact that it was a real possibility that we were going to have to break up with Montessori before we had intended. (As a side note, the public school here is terrible. Their test scores are awful. And, not that I make a sweeping judgment based on this fact alone, but there is a high rate of students on free lunch. As much as I value diversity, I think it should be just that, diverse. The population of C's elementary is only 6% white. That's not diverse). Anyway, thinking outside the Montessori box, and outside the public school box left us with two options, religious schools or private parochial schools. Religious schools (aka Catholic, for the most part) don't take too kindly to atheist applicants (regardless of their stance of "all are welcome here") and, let's face it, parochial private schools are damn expensive.

The search began. It continued. It was exhausting. There are virtually no private parochial schools in Woodbridge. There are virtually none in Dumfries, Manassas, or the surrounding area. There were two promising ones, both about a 30-35 minute commute, in opposite directions, but they were very different from one another. One had a very strict reputation and a strong arts and classics background (think Plato and Shakespeare) and the other was a more traditional private school, with a "normal" education. The more I read about the first school, the more Bryon and I were terrified that it wasn't a good fit for Collin. Collin, as we all know is a bit of a free spirit. A school that gives out demerits for a child talking while waiting in line at lunch doesn't sound like a place that Collin belongs. Collin belongs at a place where he is forced to work hard and learn, but where he learns from mistakes and feels loved in spite of them. The fact that the first school was about 3K more a year was also a chink in its armor.

Seeing the second school, Fredericksburg Academy sold us. It is a large campus, with three main areas, the Lower School, Middle School and Upper School. It has grades PK3-12, so if we were wildly fortunate (or unfortunate, if Bryon's career suddenly took a nosedive) Collin could go there until he graduated. This would be highly unlikely. My dream would be that he goes through 3rd Grade. They had an application process, in which he had to take an admissions test, which was a little terrifying for all of us (except Collin, who didn't realize he was taking a test--we just told him that a nice lady was going to play with him for a while, but if he acted crazy, and not like the big boy that we know he is, she might think he's a little too young for kindergarten and might want him to stay in preschool). We were a little worried he'd be a little too "Collin," and they'd want to put him in Pre-K. Phew, he charmed them and they thought he was brilliant.

The school has exceeded our wildest expectations from the get-go. The kindergarten teachers showed me their entire curriculum and it's perfect for Collin. He's in a class of ten, that's right ten, students. And, he has two, yes TWO teachers. So, that's a ratio of 5:1. Can't beat that, can you? He gets foreign language instruction, music and PE twice a week, in real classrooms (like a full gym). He gets art once a week in a full art studio. They even have pottery wheels, which is super cool. The lower elementary has their own library and computer lab that they use regularly, and he can check out as many books as he wants. The campus has multiple sports fields and playgrounds and he loves it.

Immediately, we've been kept in the loop about every possible thing that has gone on. His teachers are amazing. We have contact information, home phone numbers and email addresses, and three people, who I barely met when we went on our walk-through, found us on our first day just to ask how it went. I can count on one hand how many times anyone at Collin's old school even bothered to speak to us, outside of the obligatory "good morning," nod. The PFA has already invited us to socials and picnics, and we feel like we are part of the Falcon family. I cannot be happier with our choice. Every time we go there, I feel more and more confident in our decision.

Collin came home from his first full day yesterday more full of stories than he did all year last year. He remembered his friends' names (something he never did last year), and everything he did all day. He recounted so many fun memories and activities, that I could hardly keep up. He was so happy that I wish I would have switched him sooner, despite the money. Thankfully, his old school agreed to release us from our contract, after I pointed out that their contract says the word "during" the school year. Since Collin didn't start the year, I didn't see how we were obligated to any of the tuition.

This school has only one drawback (if you don't count the tuition--which I'd gladly open a vein for, if I had to). It's far away. It's in Fredericksburg, and we live in Woodbridge. It's roughly 40 miles south of us. Since it's all freeway, this a blessing and a curse. It has consistently taken me between 30 and 35 minutes to get there, so far. Yesterday, it took me an hour, in the afternoon; but, there were two accidents on the road, so I think that was an anomaly. That was the first time I'd gone at pickup time, so we are still playing with the "how long does it take," scenarios. I start my job in Maryland in a few weeks, and the worst part of this whole thing will be picking him up from Maryland on the days that I have to work. He gets out at 3:10, and I get out at 1:55. Clearly, I won't make it. He goes to their aftercare program those days, and I sit in the car. Small sacrifice, I think, until I either find a job closer to home or to Fredericksburg. If he comes home that happy, and he's getting a good education, I'll sit in the car for a week if I have to. Time to download some audiobook apps!

So, that's the short of it. I know it was long, but it's the short version, trust me. We did site visits, interviews, curriculum reviews, more phone calls than I can count, and had more conversations that lasted well into the night than I can even remember. It was a long and painful process and I'm glad it's over. I'm even more glad that it's resolved happily. All I kept saying was that I want to feel like I'm dropping him off somewhere that he's safe, happy and getting all that he can out of school. I want more for him, just more. Now that I can work, we're able to give that to him and I'm so pleased for it. He deserves the world because he's the best little boy in the world.

So, this is our boy's first day at his new school. He was a happy camper, despite his continuing reluctance to sing.