The Good

So often life is about the bad and the ugly.  Not today.

I’m helping three of my 5th graders apply to private schools for next year.

This is a private school in LA:

And this is a public one:

I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.

The application process is, as you might imagine, lengthy and complicated.  Not quite a college app, but definitely on that road.  We’ve been meeting after school to get the process going.

The first meeting was just to get their heads around the idea.  Private school?  Nosotros?  Maestra, estas loca?  How much do they cost, like $1,000?

Um. Not really.

$2,000?

Closer to $30,000…

For one year????!!!

Before they flee out the door, I reassure them.  We’re applying for scholarships, don’t worry!  Not that there’ll be a lot in this economy, but hey, it’s worth a try.  Your kids are exceptional, and this is just Plan A for middle school.  Our long shot!  Have a seat.  Let’s just discuss it. (Please!)

To help them envision this strange glittery thing called private school, I show them some pix.  The school above has a chapel.  A very beautiful chapel:

Armando: Wow!

Jasmine & Brittany: Oh!

The Parents: Ah!

Armando: Ms. B, can I ask you something?

Me: Of course.

Armando: But why do they have a church at school?  Don’t they go to church at…church?

Brittany’s Mom: Do you have to be Catholic to go there?  I try to enroll Brittany in a Catholico school in Lancaster, and they say me, no, you are not Catholic, you cannot come.

Me: No, no.  That’s not the case here.  Don’t worry about it.  I don’t know why they have a chapel, but you don’t have to be any particular religion to attend.  (Not going so well…)

I convince them all to call for the application.  Then we meet again.  And again.  I translate the questions for  them.  What do you enjoy the most about your child?  What qualities or skills would you like your child to acquire?  What cultural values would you bring to the school community–we value diversity?

I help them understand that obedience may not be the be all and end all of child virtues.  I explain how wishing your child did his homework better might not be the best sentence to put on an application.  I explain over and over what diversity means.

This last one is the hardest.  In Mexico, you hide your Indian blood.  You don’t call your language a language, you call it ‘dialect’ even though it is no way, shape, or form a dialect of any Indo-European linguistic family.  You don’t mention Zapotec or Mixtec or Aztec.  And here I am trying to explain that this beautifully lit school on a hill with a chapel wants you to talk about your heritage.  The real one, not the fake one.  We meet twice about this.  I repeat myself.  I think one of the only reasons they listen is because I’ve had their kids for three years.

Then we get to part the kids have to fill out.  It’s extensive.  And this is where the kids blow me away.

App: What do you like to do in your spare time?

Armando: I like to bake Mexican sweet breads.

Me: No, come on.  Really, Armando.  Be honest!

Armando: No, really.  I cook a lot.

Me: You help your mom with her business?  (She sells sweet breads outside the school everyday from the back of her car.)

Armando: Yeah.  And I’ll cook and make dinner and take it to her in bed cause she’s so tired.

Me: Can my son hang out with you for a few days?!  But really, for fun, what do you do?

Armando: I really like to make the breads because I like making different shapes and forms.

Armando is a math whiz.  He gets numbers.  They’re his friends.  This makes sense.  But he’s also the kid who was the mastermind behind the PSP porn-downloading ring last year. I know he’s a gamer.

I glance over at his mom.  She’s nodding yes.  Suddenly something under her elbow catches my eye. On the table where it’s resting, there’s a large glossy magazine of blond women in black lingerie.  Huh?  I pick it up and turn it over.  Same on the other side.  I flip through it.  Lots of sexy underwear.  Lots of sexy cleavage. I look at her quizzically.

Mi otro negocio, she says.  My other business.

This woman hustles.  And suddenly, there’s more context to last year’s incident.

Still, I push a little harder: No really, Armando.  I know you love video games.  What video games do you like?

Armando:  There’s this one where you build your own real world and you can start your own business and make it grow and stuff.  That’s my favorite.

Again, it makes sense.  He’s not playing me.

In a later question, he’s asked what he’d like to be when he grows up.  His answer: I want to be a famous chef who makes new dishes or I want to be a technologist who creates new things.

What’s a technologist, I ask.

Someone who invents new things by combining things and making new uses for things, he answers without hesitation.

Sounds like the boy knows what he’s talking about.  For a moment, I feel like a detective looking for internal consistency across a lot of different answers to a lot of different questions.  And with all three of these kids, it’s there.  It’s amazing how creative they are.  They just need access to a broader world.  And some guidance on how to get there.