Monday Nightmare

A background before I get into the details of a hellish Monday. If you already know about the difficulty we have had with schools here then skip to the line of asterisk where I talk about what happened on Monday. (except you need to read the last sentence before the asterisk on Braedon's reaction to the British accents at Greengates)

Last year, Kris and I decided to take Weston and Braedon out of ASF (The American School Foundation) which is the pseudo American school here in the D.F. The embassy specifically recommends avoiding ASF because of the severe bullying problems not to mention the drugs and alcohol problems in the junior and high school. If you are curious, the DCM of the embassy in Caracas when we were there had a daughter who attended ASF and then wrote a book based on her experiences called "Mexican High". You can click on that link to see the Amazon.com review.

Academics were an issue, they quickly fell behind their classmates back in Virginia when I compared the class syllabi and because 2 hours a day was devoted to Spanish instruction, science and history were nonexistent. When your 1st grader has a classroom Christmas party and 18 bottles of hard liquor are involved for the parents of 14 kids you know there is a problem. Weston was severely bullied both physically and verbally and at one time surrounded and beat up by 8 boys who were also in the 3rd grade with him. Nothing was done to the 8 boys other than 6 of them being pulled into the principles office. When we were told by a teacher that 2 of the 8 boys could not be punished "because you don't understand, they have very powerful parents" we made the decision to homeschool for the remainder of the time here in Mexico City rather than force our kids to be in that environment.

Our first choice of schools had been Westhill but after visiting and learning more about it (and the fact it was under investigation for money laundering at the time which mysteriously got swept under the rug) we decided ASF would be better than Westhill, and it is.

Greengates is the British school and the embassy highly encourages embassy families to go there. The problem is there is a long waiting list and you must apply at least a semester before.

After Bronwyn was born and we returned to Mexico City I had to face the fact that I could not keep up the homeschooling as well as keep The Monster Jamison entertained and out of trouble all while caring for a newborn. Bronwyn was actually the easy part, Jamison is beyond a handful and has more than once reduced me to a babbling lump of tears with the realization that he is only the beginning of the payback my mother has cursed me with.

Two days after school started I called Greengates prepared to beg and plead for a spot. Good news, they had a spot for each of them! We went in the next day and they were both enrolled. Greengates is truly an international school with the majority of students being foreign nationals and used to moving every few years. The majority of students know what it feels like to be the new kid so the boys fit right in. The first thing Braedon said after meeting the principle and other faculty was "Why do they all sound like Harry Potter?"

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While we have gotten away from the bullying and both boys are happy at Greengates, we have had to deal with several other issues (which I would rather deal with over the severe bullying any day) and that brings me to yesterday's nightmare.

Weston and Braedon have after school activities on Mondays and Thursdays. Both have gymnastics (more boys than girls take gymnastics, how cool is that?), and Braedon takes art and design while Weston plays rugby. Weston didn't stay after school and came home on the first bus because he was still feeling sick from last week. Braedon decided to stay after anyway and take the activities bus home. Instead of dropping Braedon off in front of our building like the bus driver is supposed to do, he told him to get off the bus at Pabellon Bosques which is a large shopping center a quarter of a mile away from us in the middle of a crazy glorietta (rotary or roundabout). When he finally got home to us he was crying and shaking.

Through racking sobs he managed to tell me the bus driver wouldn't take him home and told him to get off at the Pabellon stop. An older girl tried to help him and told him to get into the car and she would drive him home. Braedon said he was so scared he couldn't even think about whether he should go with her but she was the only person around who spoke English or even stopped to help him. I asked him about her; was she like a mommy age or like a babysitter age? He said like a babysitter. I asked him about her English, whether it had an accent or not. He said she sounded like we do with no accent. It may have only been a quarter of a mile away and he thought about walking home, you can see our apartment building from the glorietta, but this glorietta is so crazy, he would have had to cross 3 entrances to the glorietta where traffic doesn't even stop, it just continually flows into and around. Thankfully this girl and the man she was riding with dropped Braedon off at the apartment. I wish I knew who she was so I could thank her profusely as well as let her know I'm not some negligent mother who didn't pick up her own son.

No one was at the school when I called so I wrote an e-mail dripping with venom. Kris called the school this morning and spoke to the bus office. The bus coordinator called back and actually told Kris that the bus driver said he did drive to our apartment building but no one got off the bus which is odd because I was waiting for him and there was no bus. Kris told the coordinator that the bus driver was a liar, duh, big surprise...what, you thought we'd actually get an honest response from him? The coordinator called back after talking to the driver and his supervisor and sure enough the driver finally admitted to being negligent. I was hoping to get a chance to break the driver's kneecaps with my new ASP baton but alas, the driver is no longer a driver.

Last night I went in an checked on him several times while he slept. I am so grateful he was being watched over and that girl stopped to help him. I don't care if the school has a zero tolerance policy for cell phones, I am buying each of them basic pre-paid phones to carry with them at all times. I will first tell the school this is what is going to happen and assure them the boys have them for emergencies only. Both of them will understand they are not to be removed from their bags unless it is an emergency. If they follow the rules and a teacher still confiscates the phone I'll get to use my new ASP baton after all (oooooh, just think of the awesome blog post I'll be able to write after experiencing a Mexican jail!). Their bus ride alone is over an hour long and if the bus breaks down again as it did last week (making it an hour late), they will at least be able to contact me since the school has nothing set up to notify the parents in these situations. That, along with peace of mind, is reason enough for me to give them each a cell phone.