More Tom Foolery from ABC School for Rich Gits

Yesterday I went to Max's school to see a play called "Feelings", a culmination of a unit called How We Express Ourselves. The projects and home work that have been sent home over the last two months have been interesting, and the teacher in me really appreciates the use of cross-curriculum subjects they incorporated. There is a lot about that school I don't like, but the teaching is very effective and thoughtful, and Max particularly enjoys the art and music classes.

I got to the school one hour early because I know how fast the Juniour School auditorium fills up. Actually, it's not really an auditorium: the class rooms for grades 1 and 2 are built around an open circular area, and that area is referred to as the auditorium. It's big enough so that they can have indoor recess if they need to, stage plays, dances, parties, concerts, anything. It's unusual, but it works. Downstairs off the main hall is a huge area where they have kid-sized lockers and individual trays for the kids to put their shoes on in the morning, as each kid has to change into his "Hausschue" when he enters. When you look it, you see the rows of shoes or boots lined up on top of the little mini lockers, and it's really kind of cute. The Hausschue, btw, are usually carpet slippers (or in most cases now, Crocs, that the kids wear during the school day. They change back into their outdoor shoes for recess and going home.

Living so long in Europe, we've gotten to the point where we don't even blink an eye about going into someone's house and taking off our shoes. In the end, it kinda makes sense.

At any rate, I was there an hour early, as was a British lady I've seen off and on who's very friendly, along with a third mum whose oldest son is in Max's class and whose twin boys started at ABC school this year. For a woman with three boys very close in age, she's remarkably easy-going and sane, and as she's from Oz, I usually pick her brain about her homeland which is what I do when I encounter someone from another country who's willing to answer my questions.

The risers were set up, and I knew the entire 2nd grade was going to sing, "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" because Max has had to practice it this week. If you cringed when you read that, I don't blame you...it's what I did when I found out that's the song the music teacher chose. I guess it's better than the obvious, "Feelings" (oh whoa whoa FEEEEEEEEEEElings...).

So there I was with a heavy cold, having forsaken lunch and a nap because I really wanted to see this play, being as how I rarely get to attend Max's school things because of having Bea and that we live so far away. I was dizzy, jammed up, tired, but game...and dressed up because ABC school is where rich Bavarians send their kids. A lot of the students come from millionaire's homes, there's a prince or two in the ranks, and a lot of professional German footballers send their kids there. It's expensive as hell, exclusive, and pretty much up its own arse. The kids there are all about the labels, how many languages they can speak, what kind of car their daddies own...imagine Beverly Hills in Bavaria, and you'll get an idea of the sort of clientele that come there. So I dressed up a bit, wore my very sparkly (but very fake) huge diamond engagement band, my vintage wool coat with the fur trim, and did my hair. I normally don't give a shit what people think of me, but for Max's sake, I wanted to make a good impression. I even plucked my eyebrows.

As I'd gotten there so early, I got the front row, center aisle seat. This was to see Max, but it was also to hear better. I have a very slight hearing loss in one ear from about three decades of tinnitus and ear infections, but when I'm sick, my head's so bunged up I can barely hear. I sat crocheting a granny square, something I just learnt how to do, passing the time, and eventually, every seat was taken and there were close to 30 people standing in the back.

The kids had come in and were sitting according to t-shirt colour in the risers. Max's group was in red for "Furious", one group was in yellow for "Ecstatic"...you get the idea. Each group was broken down into smaller groups of 3-4 kids who had written their own plays for each emotion and were going to present them. It promised to be a very interesting and fun 90 minutes. I settled in and waited, grinning and waving at Maxman.

About 8 minutes before the program was due to start, the music teacher, the thinnest woman I have ever seen--seriously, some of the 2nd grades weighed more than she did--comes bounding up the center aisle with an older student in tow who was carrying a large video camera on a tripod. They splayed the legs out and plonked it down right between me and the other woman who'd gotten there at the same time, then started muttering to each other.

"There's not enough room," they were saying, looking worried. "There's not room for the camera." More looking around. "These people will have to move."

Uh oh, I thought.

The music teacher came over to me. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to move your seat," she chirped pleasantly. "There's not room for the camera."

"Uh huh," I replied, also pleasant. "Where were you planning on moving me?"

She looked around the packed room. "I'm not sure...wherever we can find a seat. The camera has to go HERE", and she pointed to the aisle between the two front rows, ignoring that it effectively blocked the first three seats of each row behind it.

"Well," I said, drawing myself up and staring at her, "I'm sitting here because I have trouble hearing. And I've been here an hour."

"But the camera has to go HERE," she repeated. "You understand, don't you?"

"And YOU understand that I'm here to see and listen to my kid, and that I'm not moving," I said, still smiling politely. "Don't you?"

Her face wrinkled like I'd just ripped a fart in her lap. "This is for the school DVD," she replied with a bit of a snarl. "There's no other place for the camera to go!"

"Then you should've thought of that BEFORE all the parents came," I replied evenly. "That's just poor planning. But here's an idea...why don't we push this row of chairs down the OTHER way? Then there'd be plenty of room." I pointed to the end of my row, where there was a good four feet of space between the last chair and the risers. "The children are small...there'd still be room for them to get by. And no one would have to move."

Her eyes went wide. "Oh NO! We can't do THAT!"

I shrugged and smiled. "Then I don't know what to tellya."

She frowned at me. "Don't take it PERSONALLY," she murmured.

"How else would you like me to take it?" I replied, folding my arms and taking a step toward her, more than ready to do battle.

By this point, the lady who was sitting across the aisle from me had come over, equally as pissed, and said, "You want me to MOVE?? We've been here and HOUR, and you NOW you're saying we need to move? Are you serious?"

"There's an empty seat next you, isn't there?" said the music teacher.

"That's for my husband...he's joining me from work."

"What about next to him? There's just a child sitting there. Can't they sit on someone's lap?"

"WHAT?" yelled an older grandmotherly type. "Are ye tellin' us to move? Look here, lassie..." and she stormed over. "We flew in from Scotland las' night and spent most of the night stuck in Edinburgh Airport because of the snoo. We BARELY made it here today. So nay, lassie, we're nae movin'! You figure somethin' else oot!"

"But the CAMERA--" warbled the music teacher, then choked to a stop, being now surrounded by the basilisk glare of several pissed off parents. She turned back to me, and I raised my eyebrows in a "I told you so" sort of way.

With an elaborate sigh, the music teacher managed to shift a few people around so I could sit in the front row (which earned me a few scathing looks because it meant splitting up some families, but as Poops reminded me when I related this story to her, they allowed themselves to be pushed around, and that's not my problem). I sat happily and waited for things to begin.

The skits were really funny. Max's group did an okay job (there were plenty better and plenty worse), and I could tell he REALLY loved being on the stage and had no fear of being front of a crowd at all, which came as a relief. It was well worth the time, and afterward we went into our class rooms for a lovely party. I had two very interesting conversations with a mum and a dad who are as disgusted by the elitism of the school as I am. They were both German which meant they were rich enough to send their kids to the school, just the sort of people I would've pegged as being snooty, but in fact they were very real and down to earth. I feel pretty sure we'll be in contact again before too long, and it was refreshing to hear Germans putting other Germans down and seeing the same problems I do. All in all, a good day.

And I didn't have to give up my seat. Score.