"I am sorry for the confusion yesterday but I assure you it was out of an abundance of caution that my staff questioned what is a new practice for us."
I wrote a lengthy email to the assistant vice principals of our school (one for the lower grades, one for the upper grades) yesterday, venting my frustration at my children being prevented from walking home from school two days in a row. They forwarded it along to the principal, so...cool.
I'm now "that" parent. Oh, well.
On the first day of school, they were told they were not old enough to walk home but were eventually allowed to leave campus after Miriam convinced them that she was in grade five (she's just short). So I was worried sick when they failed to show up where they should have when they should have (but it was all an effort to keep them safe, I guess, so that's nice, but also...*deep breaths*).
Yesterday the crossing guard gave them a hard time—and then drove down to find them as they were walking to our prearranged meeting place—and told Andrew (who was meeting them that day) that it was too far of a walk and that she couldn't allow it, especially because it involved crossing a busy street (where he was currently standing, meeting the kids as they crossed).
So I was upset, having gone through what I assumed to be the appropriate channels to get my children the coveted "walker" tag on their bags. I mean, there was paperwork, I stood in line, I talked with their teachers. I thought we were covered.
But apparently the school has never—not once in anyone's institutional memory—ever had a child walk away from campus unattended.
The idea that I would allow my children to walk down the street unsupervised seems to be a completely foreign (and somewhat appalling) idea to them—"a new practice."
It's a practice that will, perhaps (I hope), gain some traction.
I just am floored by the idea that no one walks, that no one has ever walked.
It's completely walkable. And should be walked.
In fact, I sent them links to about five articles on the benefits of walking to school (it's safer, it's good for your physical and mental health, and it's better for the environment) and suggested that they participate in Walk to School Day (because records show that in the past they have not). I also mentioned that having ten minute of unsupervised independence a day is probably good for kids.
Walking to school should not be weird, especially if you live in a place with sidewalks (which we have here, unlike in Durham where we did not walk to school because...there were no sidewalks).
But hopefully (?) we've got that all sorted out now.
All I have to finish sorting out is this blasted Form 3300.
Because our school isn't going to accept our dental records. Which technically means that they can disallow our children from attending class starting, well, tomorrow, but they've decided to graciously offer me an extension since I made a good faith effort to fill out the stinking form.
I was shaking with rage as the principal explained that part to me—the part where even though the county health office gave the form their okay, the forms were not acceptable for the school. Because each school has their own standards, their own requirements (the county health office explained to me when I asked why it was acceptable for them but not for the school), so even though it's a state-wide requirement, each school gets to enforce it however strictly they'd like (and each county health office, likewise, can accept or deny whatever documentation they'd like, willy-nilly, just like that).
And...guys...I'm meeting with my state representative about this on Monday.
Because...I just...like...cannot even with the red tape anymore.
I will make dental appointments for...sometime in the near future.
*****
I wrote a lengthy email to the assistant vice principals of our school (one for the lower grades, one for the upper grades) yesterday, venting my frustration at my children being prevented from walking home from school two days in a row. They forwarded it along to the principal, so...cool.
I'm now "that" parent. Oh, well.
On the first day of school, they were told they were not old enough to walk home but were eventually allowed to leave campus after Miriam convinced them that she was in grade five (she's just short). So I was worried sick when they failed to show up where they should have when they should have (but it was all an effort to keep them safe, I guess, so that's nice, but also...*deep breaths*).
Yesterday the crossing guard gave them a hard time—and then drove down to find them as they were walking to our prearranged meeting place—and told Andrew (who was meeting them that day) that it was too far of a walk and that she couldn't allow it, especially because it involved crossing a busy street (where he was currently standing, meeting the kids as they crossed).
So I was upset, having gone through what I assumed to be the appropriate channels to get my children the coveted "walker" tag on their bags. I mean, there was paperwork, I stood in line, I talked with their teachers. I thought we were covered.
But apparently the school has never—not once in anyone's institutional memory—ever had a child walk away from campus unattended.
The idea that I would allow my children to walk down the street unsupervised seems to be a completely foreign (and somewhat appalling) idea to them—"a new practice."
It's a practice that will, perhaps (I hope), gain some traction.
I just am floored by the idea that no one walks, that no one has ever walked.
It's completely walkable. And should be walked.
In fact, I sent them links to about five articles on the benefits of walking to school (it's safer, it's good for your physical and mental health, and it's better for the environment) and suggested that they participate in Walk to School Day (because records show that in the past they have not). I also mentioned that having ten minute of unsupervised independence a day is probably good for kids.
Walking to school should not be weird, especially if you live in a place with sidewalks (which we have here, unlike in Durham where we did not walk to school because...there were no sidewalks).
But hopefully (?) we've got that all sorted out now.
*****
All I have to finish sorting out is this blasted Form 3300.
Because our school isn't going to accept our dental records. Which technically means that they can disallow our children from attending class starting, well, tomorrow, but they've decided to graciously offer me an extension since I made a good faith effort to fill out the stinking form.
I was shaking with rage as the principal explained that part to me—the part where even though the county health office gave the form their okay, the forms were not acceptable for the school. Because each school has their own standards, their own requirements (the county health office explained to me when I asked why it was acceptable for them but not for the school), so even though it's a state-wide requirement, each school gets to enforce it however strictly they'd like (and each county health office, likewise, can accept or deny whatever documentation they'd like, willy-nilly, just like that).
And...guys...I'm meeting with my state representative about this on Monday.
Because...I just...like...cannot even with the red tape anymore.
*****
I will make dental appointments for...sometime in the near future.
What the heck? You go, Tiger Mama. I am so proud of you, meeting with the State Representative and everything! Trying to help other people, too, through your effort. That is awesome.
ReplyDeleteGood for you, Nancy. D&C 121:39. We were all fighting with you on this in a previous life. Take it all the way to the top
ReplyDeleteI. am. FLABBERGASTED. What on earth?? Both of these situations are just bonkers. I hope someday you can Burn All The Forms and that your kids can walk their dang selves to school soon. You make a great That Parent. :)
ReplyDelete