Blue Jello Daze: A Back-to-School story of the suburbs

We wanted our young Delusional Precious to have the very best education in the county, although we could not afford to send her to a private school. Besides that, we didn't really think private schools were a good idea from an egalitarian point of view. So, we sent her to the"best" school in the county, which of course, turned out to be the "richest" of the public schools. The volunteer ratios were nearly 2-1; unemployed moms to students.

My first lesson in the new school was what this actually meant.

During test week on the West side (poor side) of Greenville County, we got a flier telling us the kids would be taking all of the official, federal standardized tests. Okay, that's nice. Typically, I didn't think much of it and just made sure Delusional Precious (herein referred to as DP) got a good night's sleep. However, in the days after testing was over, DP complained that the old lunchroom where the tests were taken (in a building that has since been condemned, BTW) was by turns drafty and too-hot. South Carolina Autumn sunlight (blinding) was shining right in her eyes at one point, and she couldn't concentrate. At another juncture, she had to pee, and there wasn't enough time alotted. She apologized for the tests, and said she knew she had not done her best.

And then, DP was tested at her NEW SCHOOL; the East side (rich) school with air conditioning, tinted windows and carpeting. No sunlight in the eyes there, no sirree Bob! In fact, between each test, there were copious bathroom breaks and stretching exercises, supervised and conducted by legions of stay-at-home moms. They did rousing cheers, as in sports ("WE'RE #1!") and practically engaged in Cultural Revolution-style calisthenics, right there at their desks. The kids were also plied with healthy snacks and juices between the tests, to keep their blood-sugar levels high. (Who paid for all this? Who do you think? The legions of volunteers, of course.) They were STOKED, and yeah, their tests scores were phenomenal. DP's scores were about 20 points higher. I was astounded!

I joked to people that my kid's IQ had been raised one standard deviation just by moving to the East side.

I should have known, this meant LOTS MORE WORK for me, but I really hadn't thought it through. But after awhile, I was carting her everywhere for all kinds of specialized activities. I was footing the bill for all manner of pricey field trips; some of which I could not afford (i.e. trips to Quebec) and she had to sit out. We were out of our league, financially, but I hoped this meant she was getting a better education.

The assigned school projects were enormous. A mere child could never execute stuff so intricate; they seemed to require people with engineering or graphic-design degrees. In addition, it seemed understood that the parents would certainly chip in... or maybe do the whole thing. Certainly, working mothers could never find the time to work on these gargantuan undertakings.

I found reasonable ways to cut time-expenditures on these projects, but discovered that this would be judged (by teachers) as "cutting corners" and would negatively influence DP's grade. The projects had to LOOK like they had been duly fussed over, and some seemed worthy of the Martha Stewart Living Christmas edition. When I visited the school to drop off the (increasingly huge) projects, I would see what the other parents had done. DP and I would exchange dumbfounded looks: Jesus H Christ. I would never be upset with her for whatever grades she was given on these things--realizing that a good grade in such a situation was simply impossible to obtain. But of course, she wanted the good grades too, and felt that she was being cheated and unfairly penalized (which she was) since her mother could not take whole days off work to execute these complicated, long-ass projects.

I realized, once and for all, that we had made a big mistake on the day I call Blue Jello Day. It was my moment of truth. We do not belong here. I realized, moving to this side of town for the sake of a better education, was a huge error. What were we thinking?

It was the Blue Jello.

The project was a Native American project. The kids picked a tribe and made something that was emblematic of that tribe. I was relieved that this was an easy one. I actually duplicated something I had done as a child: a warrior's necklace. I regret to say I now forget the tribe(s), but most tribal warriors wore these, rather as charm bracelets are worn in the present day. They collected pieces of arrowheads, colorful beads, animal bones, shells, etc and displayed them, as military medals or girl scout badges might be displayed. So, we made one based on a photo in Encyclopedia Brittanica, and I was happy with it. I figured it might at least get a B.

On this auspicious day, there was MORE THAN ONE PROJECT DUE (do you believe?), so there I am, hauling in some humongous hand-made poster about the habitat of the North American Lynx on the same day I brought in the necklace.

And, taking up about half the room, was an "Indian village"--on what seemed to be a very large, burlap-covered ping-pong table. There were little teepees and little people. PEOPLE. They were all dressed appropriately, I noticed. Little tiny braids on the little tiny people. Little tiny papooses on the backs of the little tiny wooden women... and...

There it was. In the middle of the village, well, what do you suppose was there? What WAS in the middle, usually? Historical accuracy! Yes, a POND. A very nice POND was etched out of the burlap, and it was .... made of blue jello.

Stunned, I actually reached out and touched the jello. My suburban Epiphany!

What the fuck am I doing here?!?

I pointed at the blue jello, and attempted to say something to Delusional Precious. Speechless. She looked at it and rolled her eyes. Even though she was only in the 5th or 6th grade, she exclaimed "Shit!" and I did not chastise her, because she had correctly spoken my thoughts aloud.

Yeah, shit!

Did the mom come and set this whole thing up IN THE CLASS? Well, I guess she had to, huh? How else could she get all the little people lined up just so? She must have brought the blue jello in some tupperware and dished it out, after carefully placing the burlap and teepees and tiny wooden Indians and teensy stuffed buffaloes (really) and teensy arrows made of painted toothpicks all sticking out of the miniature stuffed buffalo. I just stared, and as I often do, I wondered what JG Ballard would say.

Okay, that's it. I can NOT compete with this.

And it was then that I stopped trying to. I did not worry that my kid could not keep up with these people. I realized, well, we made a mistake, but we will attempt to deal. And we dealt with it pretty badly, actually, and things did not always go as planned. But after I saw the Blue Jello, I had a point of reference.

Every year, when I hear all the moms worry aloud about their kids going back to school, I think of my Blue Jello Daze. And frankly? I would not repeat those years for ANYTHING.

My love, good thoughts and novenas are with all of you feminist, progressive moms, as you attempt to navigate this territory, keep your sanity, and yet do the right thing for your babies.

Namaste, and know that I love you. :)

Monday Music: Brokedown Palace

Not the best version; looks odd but historically fascinating. Weird pseudo-psychedelic visuals. European or Australian TV? (Does not look familiar as a USA-based show.) Personnel, older (and generally disheveled) musical arrangement, as well as Bobby's hair suggest this was the very early 70s.

"Listen to the river sing sweet songs to rock my soul."

~*~

Brokedown Palace - Grateful Dead

Foothills Animal Rescue

Foothills Animal Rescue folks during their benefit yesterday on Pelham Road. Below: Holly Compton Harvell with Lala the cockatoo, and Frances Wilsher with DJ the Nanday Conure. (Yes, DJ poses for the camera!)

And Lightning, the really big turtle.

~*~

Watching the River Flow

The particular river in the video is the Illinois River. Love the piano work in this song, courtesy of the song's co-producer, Leon Russell.



If I had wings and I could fly
I know where I would go
But right now I'll just sit here
so contentedly
And watch the river flow

~*~

Watching the River Flow - Bob Dylan (1971)

"What's the matter with South Carolina?"

....is the title of an article by Politico. They mention Mark Sanford, Joe Wilson, Jim DeMint, and the whole Hee Haw gang:

South Carolina didn't always look like such hostile territory for Obama. He never had much hope of winning the state in the general election, but his decisive primary victory there in 2008 helped propel him to the Democratic presidential nomination. While he lost the state in November by nine percentage points to Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.), his performance nevertheless represented the best Democratic presidential showing in nearly three decades.

[...]

While the state has also elected loose-cannon Democrats like Sen. Fritz Hollings, whose seat DeMint won when Hollings retired in 2004, it's no accident that its high-profile politicians tend to be Republicans these days or that they don’t feel bound by the constraints felt by their colleagues in more politically competitive states.

"It has traditionally been a pretty deep-red state and I think that Republican politicians feel that there's not a limit to what they can do or say when it comes to Democratic elected officials, particularly the president," said former Democratic Gov. Jim Hodges, who was defeated by Sanford in 2002. "In most places, they play the sport of politics every two or four years. In South Carolina, they play it every year. It is more important than football, to some degree."

And here's my chance to answer the question. (I sure will.)

You wanna know what's wrong? How about the fact that the rest of the country has written us off and won't fund the insurgents? This is what happens. You are looking at the result of liberals being left HIGH AND DRY.

I'm sitting right here. My blog struggles... it might be the only progressive blog in the upstate. I know for a fact it isn't the only one in the whole state--but there aren't many. Support? Hello? I almost ran for the Green Party candidacy (for Congress) some years ago, but realized I could not afford it, especially if it meant taking significant time away from my job. Anybody home?

We have been left twisting slowly, slowly in the wind.

I constantly hear and read about how the national parties and various progressive organizations fund actions, bloggers and activities in affluent, liberal areas. Why? They ain't the ones that need the money, people and accompanying resources, you know?

I have witnessed the rather amazing and ostentatious spectacle of both major parties invading my state repeatedly during the Democratic and Republican presidential primaries, throwing away more money than the Saudis. They inject obscene amounts of money into those campaigns, but as I said, will not fund the insurgents. WE DON'T EVEN HAVE AN AIR AMERICA RADIO STATION IN THE UPSTATE. (My repeated emails about that were totally ignored; I didn't even rate a reply. Thanks!) Basically, the answer from national progressives has been to ignore upstate South Carolina progressives "on the ground"--and please pay attention...THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS.

Understand, now?

We need resources, offices, money, support. We have a radio station that is dormant that could be put to use. We have people ready to work, and radical organizations already in place. I have mentioned countless groups on this blog. YOU HAVE IGNORED US. The rich Republicans have colonized the state, and have gained enormous power that they have taken nationally, to challenge progressive change. We might have put a considerable dent in their influence, but we have no way to do that. We have been hobbled by them at every turn; they run ALL the major media outlets. At the town hall meeting I attended, as I said, there was a total of three "out" progressives. The rest were silent, inside, unorganized. I know there had to be at least another three. That might have been enough for us to feel safe raising a sign or banner, making our presence known to others and starting a necessary dialogue with local moderates. AND we could have gotten ourselves on TV or radio. As it was, we were too afraid.

WE NEED HELP. SOS.

Just answering the question.

(((sigh)))

I certainly don't expect anything to change as a result of this blog post. It would involve modern-day privileged progressives getting off their spoiled asses and doing something gutsy, as progressives did back in the day of the Freedom Riders. It would take NERVE, and kids with privilege do not appear to have any nerve left, as they did during the Civil Rights and Anti-War movements. (In fact, we do not have any appreciable anti-war movement, do we?) We need people to move to the state; we need people to share their knowledge and liberal connections with us.

What's the matter is that you wrote us off, and the rich saw that you did. As a result, you gave them a whole state to play with.

How do you like the consequences?