Back to school . . . but which one?

If things go as we expect/hope them to go in the next week, our little heathen son may soon be a freshman at the local Catholic preparatory school.

Here’s how it played out. The “best high school in town” continues to be a pain in the ass. As you know from the previous post, they now want Jake to take another Algebra II test (excuse me — they’ll allow him to take another test. They’re doing us the big favor) but now he has to score a 90 to pass on to Math Analysis/Trig. We were given one of their textbooks, but yesterday, I asked for a second one — that way, Karen can prep for the next day’s work while Jake is doing today’s work.

They refused. Only one book per student, we were told. “We’re giving out textbooks next week, so we can’t spare another.”

I don’t believe that for a second. Either they’re being sticklers for rules (there is, indeed, a district policy of “one student, one book”) or they’re being dicks. And if it’s the former explanation, they’re still being dicks.

We’re tired of their attitude. They regard themselves as the best school in town, and their comments suggest we should feel privileged that our son can go to their school. We, of course, being parents of an only child, and a bright one at that, tend to take the opposite view. They should be bending over backwards to satisfy Jake’s needs.

I called the District’s office and spoke to a woman who confirmed my worst fears. The schools are allowed free rein in determining student placement. We can fight it out at the District level, but guess what, there are other schools in town.

We thought it best to skip the local Full Quiver Academy, and only briefly considered another Dominionist school. Sorry, but if our kid’s gonna go to a nonsecular school, it had better be one that’s cool with Charles Darwin and an Earth that’s older than 6,000 years.

I called the Catholic high school, talked to someone in administration, and felt very good about things afterward. I don’t know how much flack they’ll give us if we insist on our son taking Math Analysis/Trig, but hey, the snooty public high school is always another option. Anyway, Jake will have to take an entrance exam this Tuesday, and he’ll have an interview (with us present) some time this upcoming week. Friday is the first day of school.

If he becomes a student there, he’ll have to wear the school uniform.

Should be interesting. I keep worrying how Jake should respond if asked, “What is the role of faith in your life?” I wonder if, “I consider that an intensely personal part of my life, one I would rather not talk about with strangers” would wash?

In other news: my weight is down to 173.5, about 8 lbs down from my post-Nut Creek weight. Woot! Funny what diet and exercise will do.

D.

It’s over

I think I might have mentioned that Jake will be getting back into the public school system this year. He’ll be a Freshman. A Freshman taking Math Analysis/Trig (which, here, is a Junior year course), if we have any say in it. A few weeks ago, we learned that they would require him to test out of Geometry and Algebra II, so he’s been cramming away, weekends too. This kid hasn’t take a summer vacation for the last three summers and it’s not something that was ever an issue for us. I think it really bothered him, how much math he would forget between the end of one school year and the beginning of another. So we decided to press on through.

As a result, he’s way ahead of the game. You’d think the school would be satisfied reviewing his homework (we’ve saved EVERYthing) but no, they like their tests. He took the Algebra II test on Friday, the Geometry test today. We still don’t know how he did, but he doesn’t feel bad about either test.

Anyway, I’m not sweating how he’s going to do in Math Analysis/Trig. I’m sweating P.E.

P.E.
Team sports.
Showers.

Well, a guy can get used to showering with a bunch of other guys, but team sports? Truly traumatic. I told him he should just start getting used to hearing, “Hoffman, you SUCK!”

D.

One year later, he’s still not a #&!>

From June 30, 2008:

Amazing how much his voice has changed in the last year.

He’s still a great kid, by the way.

D.

Logistics

It was worse moving from Harbor to Santa Rosa.

Then, we had to clean out a 4000-square-foot mostly-but-not-entirely-empty home and a stuffed-to-the-gills 1300-square-foot medical office. We had two cats, two ferrets, two degus, nine poison dart frogs, and about 30 or 40 tarantulas. We were moving to three locations: our rental home, a medical office, and a storage facility.

Now — lucky us! We only have to move from two locations (a home and a storage facility) to two locations (a home and an office). There’s a whole lot less to move to the office, too: no heavy exam chair, no operating microscope (we donated both to Kaiser), no autoclave. I got rid of a lot of junk in the last few weeks. Our degus and dart frogs are gone to the great beyond, and a lot of the male tarantulas have died a natural death, too. We’re down to less than 20 tarantulas.

But this is still a pain in the ass, particularly since we want to move a minimal amount of stuff down to a furnished apartment in B-field (temporary housing until we close escrow). We have a Camry and a Miata. So, as far as storage space for moving is concerned, we have a Camry. Into the Camry goes a carrier for the ferrets, a carrier for the cats, all the tarantulas (each in separate sta-in-pet enclosures), our luggage, our printer/fax machine, assorted files, assorted backpacks with laptops and other goodies we can’t live without, and last but not least, a desktop computer.

Yeah, I don’t see it happening, either . . . not unless the Miata’s trunk turns out to be a lot larger than I’m thinking it is.

Karen and I just did a count: this will be our 12th move together as a couple. Twelve moves in 25 years of marriage just doesn’t seem fair. Whatever happened to settling down?

D.

Home sweet home

We have a verbal agreement on our offer! The relocation company didn’t even haggle, which of course makes us think, “We didn’t go low enough.” But who knows . . . if we had gone lower, perhaps they would have split the difference and we’d have ended up at a higher strike price.

If this sale goes through, the new home will be our nicest yet. We’ll have a pool and a guest bedroom, so if you and your spouse have ever looked deeply into one another’s eyes and said, “Honey, let’s vacation in Bakersfield this year,” now you have a place to stay.

Just think: you’ll be centrally located. Bakersfield is two hours away from the San Simeon coast, the Sierra Nevadas, and Los Angeles. It’s the ideal staging point for countless adventures.

You’re only imagining that I’m whistling “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.” I’m looking forward to this. Really I am!

D.

Home

First of all, a big thank you to everyone who griped about B&W going offline. It was a theme problem, that’s all I know, and my heartfelt thanks to Pat for suggesting I change themes. You da alpha geek, Pat. Maybe I’ll futz with a new theme later, but for now I’m happy to be back online.

What is it that makes a home feel homey? As much as Karen urges me to see past the furniture, the funky color schemes or window treatments or omigod the smells, it’s difficult for me to take that step. One place was just so great-grandma I couldn’t take more than a quick walk-through. (When the owners have daguerreotypes hanging on the walls — I shit you not — we’re dealing with srs generational schism.) Karen had to point out the real deal-killer: a surfeit of yucky carpet and yuckier tile. I don’t want to have to redo a home’s entire flooring, thanks much.

I’m partial to the least expensive home we visited, and not because it was the least expensive. Although that helps. (You have to like a place wherein the mortgage equals what you’re currently paying in rent.) No, I liked it because it felt homey. I could imagine living there. It had a comfortable feeling to it. It was small, arguably too small, but that helped me imagine the possibilities of filling it up with comfie sofas and stuff on the walls . . . what I mean is, I could see myself living there.

I liked this one bedroom located just off the den: darkly paneled, or perhaps there was a dark wood floor, with dark slate tile in a newly remodeled bathroom adjacent to it. It had library/writing nook written all over it. My muse squirmed with scarcely repressed glee.

Off the master bedroom, there was a hot tub just outside, sheltered by a privacy wall. I liked that, too. Didn’t like the carpet in the master bathroom (why do people do that?), and the pool in the backyard was a mite small (nearly all B-field homes have pools in the backyard, it seems), but still. Minor quibbles.

Oh, and we would probably have to do some kitchen remodeling if we decided to stay in there for any great length of time.

Anyway, I think I’m losing the argument on this one. Karen and Jake prefer a home that’s half again as expensive (but still very affordable) because it’s bigger all around, has a better kitchen, bigger pool, etc. But it has yellow walls! YELLOW! And someone CHOSE to make them yellow.

Yes, I know about this thing called “paint.”

The saga continues . . .

D.