Child's Play? Memories of 'Nursery' Admissions

Sixteen years ago, as a young mother, I went through the Nursery school admission process.

The playschools coached us and the kids. They held special seminars before the admission season where experts came to give talks (and everyone from book publishers to health food and insurance companies sponsored the events). 

The school principal almost ‘forbade’ me to go to my hometown for my younger kids’ birth (in February) because the elder kid’s admission ‘season’ began in October of that year.

If you think I was ‘hyper’ to give in to the pressure, let me tell you that:

• One of the schools used to give out only a limited number of forms on a first-come, first-serve basis; starting from 8:00 am in the morning. People queued up from the previous night.
• A family we heard of, had converted to another religion to get their kids admitted in a sought-after school.
• People shift residences to meet the address criteria of well-known schools. To counter this, one of the schools wanted prospective parents to provide proof of residence for the previous five years. (Maybe that inspired the idea behind one of the most contentious bills in our country).
• here were coaching classes for three-year-olds and special sessions for parents. This was eighteen years ago, now I hear the kids don’t have any tests/interviews. Maybe the parents go through extra-special-sessions now.
• One of the schools had written tests for parents. Both parents had to appear for the same test, sitting in different rooms-I guess the answers were then compared. I wonder what they did after that.
• Application Forms asked for our qualifications, qualifications of maternal grandfather and grandmother, paternal grand grandfather and grandmother only.
• One form asked us to list the most important people we knew in the fields of education, music, sports, arts, etc.
• Most forms asked, “How can you contribute to the school?”
• I guess the question asking, “What make of cars your family owns?” wasn’t even surprising.

We went through that whole experience and managed to get the kid into a great school. We kept photocopies of all filled-in forms because I was pregnant and would need to start preparing for the other one soon.

Wow! This was such an awesome exercise in confidence building.

Of course, I can handle college admission. I can handle it twice too.

My Story: The High School Trauma

(This post is a continuation of my story from the earlier post  
This happened a generation ago. I have tried very hard not to repeat my parents’ mistakes. But I am sure; I have made plenty of different ones. I just hope that my daughters deal with them in a better way than I did. )

Mummy meant well. Being a teacher, she  was well-informed about the benefits of CBSE over the archaic state board syllabus and so she changed my school in 11^th standard. Yes she also wanted me to be away from the strong peer pressure, my existing group of friends, and begin again as a focused student.

I did not want to be a focused student. Getting better marks on subjects I anyway didn’t want to study didn’t make much sense. As a teenager who drew on the company of her friends for oxygen, it felt like the end of life to be forced to cope without them.

(My imagination and my emotions were always dramatic (rather melodramatic) as per conventional norms. But that’s how I think and feel. Yeah, even now J.)

I did try to fit in. I made a few friends, kept up with my studies, tried to do all the right things, but it was tough.

I missed my friends from the last ten years, practically my entire lifetime. I missed the old familiar school where each room, each corner was full of memories of growing together. I hated the new routines, the new uniform, just the feeling of going to this new school every morning.

I also felt harassed. I was the new girl in class. A class half-filled with hormonal boys, nurtured on bollywood notions which generally told youngsters that girls fall in love with you if you keep irritating them. I couldn’t discuss these nuisances at home. I had learnt that my parents’ way of protecting me was imprisoning me. There would be more questions, more restrictions more tension.

If I had friends to share the Archies greeting cards with the long, complicated proclamations or the torn slips of notebook with ‘shaayari’ sneaked into my bag, I might have seen the romantic or the comic side to things. But I was alone. And I felt hunted and miserable.

I called my friend and poured out all the angst. She agreed that I needed to take some drastic action.

We decided to change the school-back!

What followed after that phone call with my friend is coming up in the next post but the questions still remain:

The state board/CBSE/ICSE variances remain along with differences in their syllabi, their grading patterns, the different criteria colleges use to score these grades are still painful and so unnecessary. Why can't we have a uniform system?

We need the variances where they matter more-in the subjects a student wants to study.
We need variances in the way students with special needs are taught.

The world has changed in the last quarter of a century.
Why has nothing changed in this area?

Another begining

That time of the year again.

I am going mad with covers and labels for  two sets of books, arranging uniforms, marking out the ties and socks, sorting out the tiffin boxes, the water bottles, the pencil sets, the clips and hair-bands and…

The end of the summer break!

I am all worked up about how to get these two to start waking up at 6.30 am again. How will they cope with staying cooped in with textbooks after two months of absolute mayhem? How would they get back to regiments of the daycare after the complete chaos of this time?

As for these two:

Within the pile of books and bedding, they are jiving away to glory with “music (?)” at ear-splitting levels.

When I go and yell “Girls! We have school tomorrow”. I get identical blank stares “But that’s Tomorrow”.

Yeah. For tonight, lets Rock!

The Harried Mom’s survival tips for school days

These are some lessons from life and friends that help make my mornings better. I’ll keep updating the list. Please share as many tips as you can.

• Labeling socks: Yep I’ve labeled them N1, N2.. J1, J2 with embroidery thread and it has taken care of a daily 10 min hassle.
  
• Use Ala: of all permutations and combinations, this has been the most effective in turning brown uniforms to whitish.
  
• Buy multiple sets of uniforms: Most of us managed with two, but where every minute counts, having more sets helps you avoid a lot of stress
  
• Same with water bottles and tiffins: A backup always helps. Especially on the days when the maid doesn’t turn up and you are already so late
  
• Back up maid: This is too much of a luxury, but there is nothing like having two maids, so that atleast one is available when you need her the most.
  
• Making the kids do chores: They don’t get to watch TV unless next day’s bags and uniforms are in order. (I know this is worse than a boot camp, but then..)
  
• Keeping their hair short: This takes a lot of persuasion. But when a minute means the difference of missing the school bus, rippling into driving them two school (that’s 30 mins), it is a struggle to make plaits for two girls. More so because they have to be exact in terms of position and thickness, if I make plaits for one, then obviously……….. and the school rubber bands always go missing at sharp 7:35 am
  
• Moms’ network: I need to call Neetu and ask her to stop the bus for me almost two days a week. She calls me on atleast two days. I call Ruchi when I discover that one of the girls has left her tiffin box or diary on the table, Chitra when the bus driver tells us he has a puncture and cannot come…..The list is a lifesaver.