Entry #2

[ENTRY #2]

Faux Real: Entry Two

Tuesday, August 23

 To describe the kids’ experiences on their first day of school is to envision a herd of cattle being reluctantly rounded up, then told to find their way amidst a maze (and haze) of hallways, rooms and lockers.

 David drove Noah to school, because his office is close by. Seeing the absurd car line waiting to turn into the school parking lot, he decided to park across the street at a church. Noah got out, walked across the street, and apparently entered the school from the “wrong” doorway. He got in trouble within five minutes of his very first day. Not an excellent start.

 Noah’s school has more than 2000 kids in just two grades (7^th and 8^th). It’s supposedly the largest of its kind in Texas, which means it’s probably the largest of anywhere in the U.S. Kids are not allowed to wear their backpacks at school, because it’s just too crowded, nor are they allowed to bring water bottles due to the fact that they could fill them with booze. Both the Texas and American pledge are said each morning, followed by a moment of silence.

 Noah said he has classes with some 300 kids throughout the day, with little consistency as to which kids he might see. One teacher, Mrs. McGary (known among Noah’s peers as “Scary McGary,” he was told), admitted that she very well might not know the names of her students, even by year’s end, because she has nearly 200 kids to teach.

 Unlike the kids’ previous school, where lunch and recess were simultaneous, kids are not allowed to play or go anywhere when it’s lunch period. They can only sit, eat, and stay put until the bell rings. During lunch, four girls came to chat with Noah and asked to “Facebook” him (now a verb). One of the girls he spoke with had just moved from Egypt and she said the weather was more tolerable even there because it was a "dry hot." Makes me imagine Lawrence of Arabia riding to town on his camel and turning back around to return to the “dry heat” of the Arabian desert for some welcome relief.

 Aidan’s teacher advised him to get “Gogurt” for a snack rather than bring a cup of yogurt because snack time is so brief. How much longer does it take to open a lid than it does to rip the plastic strip off with your teeth? Between the plastic bags, plastic water bottles and plastic yogurt tubes (not to mention plastic building materials), The Woodlands is single-handedly supporting the plastics industry. Plastic bags are actually outlawed in San Francisco, and “landfill” waste is frowned upon. Talk about two very different worlds...

 Knowing how bustling the drop-off traffic was, I thought I’d leave at 3:00 to pick up Aidan to ensure that I would be there for him when he finished his first day of school at 3:45. When I got into the car, the temperature registered 175 and once again, the air conditioning blasted out hot air. After about five minutes, it finally got down to 109. As I neared the school, I realized I was about eight cars back but couldn’t turn into the school. I was stuck breathing in hot air, sweating like a beast, and going nowhere. Some stealth cars  pulled over to the right lane, make a wide left turn and drive in, but there were two police cars there and my van only has one headlight (and isn’t registered in Texas, nor am I), so I had to wait. Finally, around 4:00 p.m., I was given the signal to turn. Aidan found me, got in, and soon after broke down in tears. “This school isn’t for me,” he said.

 While the kids had little or no homework, I got to fill out yet another bevy of forms that I’ve already filled out both on paper and online. One new one asked me to fill out the following: “Male Guardian” and “Female Guardian.” What if a child has two female guardians? Two male guardians? I thought about the kids I know who have two moms or two dads and that their parents would not be pleased about this presumptuous form. Then again, they would probably not be living in The Woodlands. I was tempted to add a drag queen name in parenthesis next to David’s just for the fun of it ( David “Chantelle” Gabriel?).

 The kids are now identified as a string of six assigned numerals (“My cattle number,” as Noah calls it) rather than by name. I’ve never felt so anonymous or lost in a sea of people as I do at the kids’ schools. I sure miss the warmth and accessibility we’d become accustomed to these past years.

 Earlier this morning:

 Drop-off this morning went much more smoothly than yesterday. For one thing, I didn’t get lost, and another, the line was infinitely shorter and I could actually park, walk in, and speak with a human.

 On the way there, I noticed a woman in a huge red truck flossing her teeth with both hands while stopped at a red light. I’ve seen plenty of folks picking their nose, applying lipstick (and yesterday, nail polish, too), but this was a first. To my right was another large SUV with the bumper sticker, “Impeach Obama.” In Berkeley, many cars have stickers celebrating Obama’s win, even if they’re now curling around the edges.

 Upon turning on the radio, I happened upon a station that in San Francisco was NPR. Here, it’s a right wing, somewhat evangelical station (from what I’ve gleaned). The radio host said, “The New York Times should be ashamed of itself (regarding its abortion stance),” and talked about our “once in a lifetime great president, Ronald Reagan.” An advertisement discussed a feature about the Holy Land, with a reference to its web site, pronounced “Dubya, dubya, dubya, holy land dot com.”

 After dropping David off at work, I took Izzie to the George Mitchell Nature Reserve, a great discovery. The reserve is named after George Mitchell because he essentially built The Woodlands after striking it rich in the North Texas gas fields.

 David had pointed out the nature reserve to me on the way to his office, and I was excited to explore it. It’s one place in the area that feels more like “natural nature.” While there are plenty of trees around here (hence, the name The Woodlands), the placement of everything is calculated even if it’s not entirely fabricated (everything seems to be placed “just so”). So, to wander around “the woods” was great.

 Izzie decided to release her bowels about .2 miles after we began our 1.5 mile hike, which meant I had to carry around a revolting bag for the remainder of the time (no garbage cans, alas), but otherwise, the walk was relaxing (still morning, so not too, too hot, just mildly sweaty). Izzie had obviously remembered going on this walk with David, because at one point she disappeared and I found her swimming in a large pond. At home, she’ll just sit on the top two steps of the pool with a rounded back like an old grandpa, but she swam around the pond. While it was fun to watch her, she was really mangy looking after getting out. Ah, well.

 1:45 p.m.: Greeted by a friendly guy with a gold front tooth, who delivered our new washer and dryer. Told me he is actually originally from Ohio (Dayton), though has lived here for 31 years. The family across the street is from Ohio, too. Small world. No matter where I’ve moved, I always happen upon folks from my home state. Rather comforting.

 Took a video with Izzie chasing and chomping bubbles. I think this is as aggressive as she gets. She’ll chase butterflies (mostly their shadows) and wants to play with cats, though is pretty scared of them, having been swatted by one when we were staying with my parents. Windswept leaves, butterflies and bubbles. That’s about Izzie’s speed. Don’t think guard dog training is in her future...

 Wednesday, August 24

 I’m scrambling. Both kids reported that their school day yesterday was even worse than the day before. Noah’s overwhelmed by the sea of kids, not knowing how to navigate the web site to find his homework assignments, and will "get a zero" even if he hands them in a day late because he couldn't access them. Aidan has been switched from one class to another (evidently he’s not the only one), in an attempt to find the right “learning communities” for everyone. “Just when I meet some nice kids, I’m switched again,” he said. Hope today is better. I can only hope.

 I waited at the bus stop with Aidan today, which was actually a nice little social opportunity. Aidan met some nice kids; Izzie met some nice dogs; I met some nice moms. Can’t get much deeper than “nice,” but it is, um, nice.

 While waiting for the bus, a boy asked Aidan if he played “air soft.” I imagined it to be some kind of touch football, perhaps with a Nerf ball (the operational words being “soft” and “air”). Apparently it’s a gun game “in which participants shoot round, non-metallic pellets via firearms” and is all the rage here. Joys. So far I haven’t seen any kids with missing eyes, so I gather they wear protective gear. Still...

 Ended up going on a walk with a woman who just moved here a year ago who has a dog named Sammy. A mini Aussie, she seemed to growl at most other dogs but was okay with Izzie—phew. Met another woman who’s a pilot for Continental, but mostly stays at home with her three kids and zany dog, Jeronimo (a big yellow lab) while her husband, also a pilot, flies all over the globe. Another woman I met has five kids (one boy, four girls, all with names beginning with “A”), and another who’s a pediatrician. (I happened upon all these women simply by walking Aidan to the bus stop two blocks away...haven’t really seen people hanging out otherwise.)

 Lots of smart folks around here—many of whom work for one of the big oil companies or in medicine. Our next door-neighbor’s also a pediatrician. Good to know lots of kiddie doctors are around.

 Everyone is a transplant from somewhere. A surprising amount of people I’ve met are from or have lived in Ohio. BP (British Petroleum) used to be in Cleveland, so perhaps it’s not completely coincidental, but there are lots of people also from Illinois, Wisconsin...everyone escaping the snow, or simply transferred here. Perhaps that’s what makes people open to meeting others.

 Walking around the neighborhood, I couldn’t help but notice the array of saccharine-sounding street names: Indigo Sky, Misty Morning, Racing Cloud, Amber Glow, Mellow Leaf (huh?) and my personal favorite, Scented Path (scented with what, I wonder? There are a lot of dogs around here. I don’t imagine the scent would be exactly fragrant.). Turns out just one person had the task of naming all the streets in The Woodlands and used Harlequin Romance novels as a source of inspiration.

“We use a lot of words that are just appealing, pretty images, like Peaceful Canyon. That neighborhood sold really well and I think it’s because of the name... We even have ones from Star Wars. That day I was really desperate. Nothing was popping into my head.”

 –Susan Vreeland-Wendt.

 

 I was invited to a Newcomers Club social on Sunday. Since I don’t really know anyone, I’ll give it a whirl. Don’t think I’ll be signing up for bunko, canasta, bridge or golf, though. Should offer plenty of opportunity for further observations, however. Here’s the official invite:

 The Newcomers Club of The Woodlands cordially invites you to attend our annual Welcome Social, Sunday, August 28, 2011, 4:30–6:30p.m. at The Woodlands Country Club, Palmer Clubhouse. Come make new friends, join our club and sign up for any of the 30 activity groups which include Bridge, Canasta, Golf, Tennis, Breakfast Club, Dining Out, Day Trekkers, Biker Riders.........just to name a few!

 Other forthcoming events include: Kids’ Fishing Tournament and the iGoPink Stilleto Sprint and the Stilleto Sprint for Men. (Do they really run in stilletos? I’m really way out of my element here. I can’t even walk in stilettos, let alone run. Can men here run in stilettos too? That I would like to see...).

 Thursday, August 25

 Noah said, “School was definitely more fun today” after returning home on Wednesday. “What’s on your hand?” I asked, seeing the words “California girls” written in curly girl writing across it. Noah told me that two girls took his hand and began writing Katy Perry’s “California Girls are unforgettable,” but only got so far as to write the first two words before he moved his hand away. More girls chatted with him on the bus home. One asked Noah for his number and wrote it down on her leg. Another has been texting him incessantly. Guess these Texan gals are anything but shy. Hopefully lassos are not permitted at school.

 I just let Izzie out and heard her barking at something. A lizard? Ginormous cockroach? A windswept leaf? I saw her looking directly at something and found a turtle! Actually, it seemed like it was only a shell, but I looked more closely and could see the creature latched safely inside. I didn’t know if it was alive or not, but I took it inside. Turns out it is definitely alive, though it hasn’t come out of its shell yet. I put it in a shallow plastic box (after dumping out a box o’ memorabilia—still lots to unpack), filled it up with a little water, some rocks, lettuce, cucumber, apple...Okay, so I’m a sucker, but I will let it back out into the wild, just as soon as the kids get home. I’ve got to show them my backyard discovery.

 Like most yards around in The Woodlands, it’s uber-suburban and doesn’t back up into the woods or even a golf course (which are plentiful around here), which is why finding a turtle in the yard comes as such a surprise. I have seen an assortment of various little lizards out back, which is cool, and there are some beautiful birds, too.

 Texas, I’ve learned, is actually supposed to be a birdwatcher’s paradise. In the Woodlands, however, it’s sometimes confusing knowing which birds are statues and which ones are real (granted, I’m nearsighted).

 Still trying to resolve the school issue: where to go? After researching alternative school options to the overstuffed public schools here, the only viable one I could find is a Montessori-based school called The Esprit International School. The name invites visions of multicultural grandeur and international adventures, but in reality, it’s a sweet little (and I mean  little) place, the closest thing I’ve seen to a one-room schoolhouse. The headmistresses, Rosemary Bigelow (great name, eh?), is actually quite impressive, as are her handful of upper grade teachers, the only reason I ventured to revisit it after our initial excursion to the area last spring.

 When we visited last spring, it was Friday, which is when kids have art a shorter day and, evidently welcome farm animals visit every now and then. A bevy of critters happened to be out on the yard the day we visited, so we dubbed this place, “The Zoo School.”

 We dismissed the possibility of going to Esprit because the public schools were supposed to be great and because it was just so small. But after three days of chaos and confusion in the public schools, coupled with the fact that Esprit starts on Thursday, we were advised to have the kids attend the first two days and then make a decision. “Instead of being on a cattle call now, I get to be with farm animals,” said Noah. We’ll see how it goes.

 I wish there were more options for them. What I really wish is that the kids were still going to Prospect Sierra, but we just moved here and we can't leave David, so we have to find something that'll work, at least for this year. There’s actually a very shmancy private school within walking distance from here, but it’s uber elitist, uber conservative, and uber competitive. Sadly, not a good fit either. 

 The truth is, we're simply not a good fit here. We’re not just square pegs—we’re hexagonal. While fitting into the “round hole” of The Woodlands is not going to happen anytime soon, I have to at least find a way to make my kids feel comfortable. I trust they'll learn something, and certainly expand their awareness of American culture. Noah's already counting down the days until he returns to Berkeley for winter break (114 as of today).

OMG (and I don’t say this lightly): I just walked out to get Izzie again, and while she was busy barking at something else this time, I found in my path what I initially thought was gnarled root, only to realize that it was a dead nutria. It looked like something out of Lord of the Rings, all shrivelled and Smeagol-like. Gives me a queasy feeling thinking about eating at The Hobbit Hole again...