I guess it should come as no surprise when a day goes badly after it begins with a wet cat nuzzling you in order to draw your attention to the remains of a bird it has deposited on the bedroom rug.
Remember the Mozart piece Snowman has been practicing for the All State auditions? Well, one of the drawbacks of attending Hippy Dippy High School is they don’t yet have a music program. Everyone assured us that he could audition for All State anyway, but apparently no one thought to tell us how to get an application form or what the deadlines were. Tonight, when I was checking the date for the auditions, it finally occured to me that we might need to actually apply in order for Snowman to audition.
To say that I am disappointed is to put it mildly, since he has put so much time into preparing for this audition that will now never be. If he were attending a regular high school rather than a new and innovative one, the band teacher would have issued a reminder, would in fact have supplied the audition application forms and sent them in, as was done in middle school.
I wonder what the home schoolers do? Lord knows they participate in all these arts activities. But my boy, who goes to the shiny new Expeditionary Learning High School? Not so much. If he wanted to play football or soccer or tennis or basketball, he would merely choose to affiliate with one of the other high schools in town. But for music, there is nothing in place, since band takes place during the day at the other schools, rather than after school.
I feel like an idiot for not looking into this sooner. We have no way to even print out the form, since it has to be done by a teacher or school administrator.
The Father of My Children is going to make some calls tomorrow, and Snowman is going to speak to the principal of Hippy Dippy High School.
I want things to go smoothly for my children, want to see them have opportunities for wonderful experiences. I loathe feeling helpless, sitting reading the by-laws of the Music Educators Association and trying to figure out where he fits in to the rules.
I often feel this way about things associated with Hippy Dippy High School. I want to like it. I really do. But the Progress Report comes home, and the grading scale is Greek to me, even though it comes with explanatory material time and time again. All I can see is that the top two marks are Honors grades (4.0 and 3.75, or "Exceeds the Standards"), and everything else is apparently crap, because the threshold they expect every student to achieve (3.0 or "Meets the Standards") is so close to the "everything else" that I cannot differentiate between them.
The boy works hard. He is a good boy. He is helpful at home, he practices his clarinet, he goes to church willingly, he spends long hours on his homework. The principal of the school tells me they like to think of him as an example of what’s great about kids at Hippy Dippy High School. I wish I were smart enough or young enough or flexible enough to understand their system, which is as mind-boggling to me as Emergent is in the church world. It’s as if some younger, cooler people are speaking a mysterious language, and I do not have the key to comprehending it. It’s probably a good thing they don’t have to abide by "No Mom Left Behind," or they would definitely get a grade of "Does Not Meet the Standards," which by the way is a 1.0. And that would be my Mothering Snowman grade for today.