Nobody beats the Pre-K Inquisition...
So today was the big day. Not only did we sign the paperwork so we can finally move into a place that has more space for Texas roaches to roam (we just kept stepping on each other in the current place), but also to meet the admissions staff at what we hope will be her new school, St. Holy Martyr of Peace, Mercy and Holy Baptism Is It Expensiveth.
Sarah was already dressed for the interview because she has a 'real' job. I thought it might be best to at least appear that we're one of those 'desirable' families, and wear a shirt with a collar AND buttons. We also voted on a shower and shoes...it's a big day.
The initial greeting was very nice. This particular school had an absolutely beautiful campus and was obviously very well maintained. The fact that our daughter is going into pre-k, and i'm already using words like 'campus' was a little uncomfortable at first. This school STARTS and pre-k, and goes up through high school, so it did make sense. I was, however, wondering just how much of the tuition went to 'ivy vine straightening'...impressive.
After our handshake and their obligatory looking over of us, they take Reagan away for 'testing'. The last couple of days we busted out the Hooked On Phonics we bought from the discount bin at Borders to 'practice', only to realize that if she could just remember that the alphabet doesn't start with 1,2,3, we'd be ahead of our usual game.
We were told that the test would take an hour and fifteen minutes, and it did. Reagan doesn't do ANYTHING for an hour and fifteen minutes except argue over why she can't have a twelfth licorice rope, so we were understandably concerned about how it would go.
They took us on a tour of the 'campus', probably to distract us from wondering what they could possibly be doing in there, short of drawing blood and running brain scans. We saw all of the facilities, even those used through the high school grades. I can't even imagine the day she stops pulling her dress up at the grocery to show the butcher department her Ariel panties...let alone compete for varsity volleyball.
We all met back at the admissions office eventually, asked if we had any further questions, and sent us on our way. Nothing regarding the test, nothing about whether we're 'in', nothing about if they found any signs of activity from the brain scans...just a quick, mildly polite "we'll let you know".
In our own debriefing in the car (not the Ariel panties kind, this time), Reagan told us they asked about our dog, Maggie. "Oh? What did you say about Maggie"? "That she sometimes poops on the carpet at home". I guess we'll start picking up some more applications.
Sarah was already dressed for the interview because she has a 'real' job. I thought it might be best to at least appear that we're one of those 'desirable' families, and wear a shirt with a collar AND buttons. We also voted on a shower and shoes...it's a big day.
The initial greeting was very nice. This particular school had an absolutely beautiful campus and was obviously very well maintained. The fact that our daughter is going into pre-k, and i'm already using words like 'campus' was a little uncomfortable at first. This school STARTS and pre-k, and goes up through high school, so it did make sense. I was, however, wondering just how much of the tuition went to 'ivy vine straightening'...impressive.
After our handshake and their obligatory looking over of us, they take Reagan away for 'testing'. The last couple of days we busted out the Hooked On Phonics we bought from the discount bin at Borders to 'practice', only to realize that if she could just remember that the alphabet doesn't start with 1,2,3, we'd be ahead of our usual game.
We were told that the test would take an hour and fifteen minutes, and it did. Reagan doesn't do ANYTHING for an hour and fifteen minutes except argue over why she can't have a twelfth licorice rope, so we were understandably concerned about how it would go.
They took us on a tour of the 'campus', probably to distract us from wondering what they could possibly be doing in there, short of drawing blood and running brain scans. We saw all of the facilities, even those used through the high school grades. I can't even imagine the day she stops pulling her dress up at the grocery to show the butcher department her Ariel panties...let alone compete for varsity volleyball.
We all met back at the admissions office eventually, asked if we had any further questions, and sent us on our way. Nothing regarding the test, nothing about whether we're 'in', nothing about if they found any signs of activity from the brain scans...just a quick, mildly polite "we'll let you know".
In our own debriefing in the car (not the Ariel panties kind, this time), Reagan told us they asked about our dog, Maggie. "Oh? What did you say about Maggie"? "That she sometimes poops on the carpet at home". I guess we'll start picking up some more applications.
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