Preschool Madness

Why don’t I live in a small town where there is one preschool, one little red schoolhouse, three teachers, no hairy warts, and a bake sale every other month to raise money for art supplies?

Instead, I find myself slowly sinking into the quagmire of what is known as “Preschool Panic.”  Panic is a far cry from what I am feeling…I’d say I’m more on the “you gotta be kidding me” scale.  First of all, admission into the majority of these places is about $14k for parochial and $17k for private.  The ones I like of course, the shiny schools with dancing and Bert the Bug Guy and tickets to see the Philharmonic after naptime, those are the schools that we’d have to sell our children to afford.  Which, would make the whole thing much easier because then we wouldn’t need preschool in the first place.  But I’d miss them so…

Secondly, there is the get in factor.  Said establishments are harder to hurdle than Harvard.  You need letters, and donations, and blood samples, and celebrity.  Oh how celebrity greases those iron doors.  Sadly, my career as a Nobel laureate isn’t where it should be.  I’ve tried saying I’m an oil heiress, Jim Morrison’s prodigy (I changed my name for anonymity), Van Morrison’s prodigy (different school, same incredulity), and a retired porn star (how many head-of-schools watch porn, right? – more than you would figure I found out).  Anyone attached to the “star” connotation was fair game for my purposes.  To date however, my child is still not enrolled in preschool.

All I can say is, this is ridiculous.  Two years old and already competing for an education.

I’m opening my own school.  It’s going to be called “Cool Kids” and we’re only taking dorks, kids with pets, kids with parents I like, and kids who have wine cellars in their basements. (see kids with parents I like)  If you want a free tour, contact me.  (and be sure to include the dimensions of your pet/wine cellar)

 

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