Songs in the Attic

While Amy has wonderfully described the "First Day of School" extravaganza in a separate post, I thought I'd share a few observations and vignettes that might be worth memorializing. If you haven't read Amy's posting yet, you should read that first.

As we walked up the hill towards the school it was amazing to see the varitey of characters all herding themselves towards the chute, complete with metal gate, that corralled both parent and child into the entry area. There was the overweight guy wearing man-pris and a massive salmon-colored t-shirt. There were the many Moms, young and not so young, in a variety of shapes and sizes. There was the wine lady (!). There were the two separate Dads who greeted each other with a handshake and an exchange of pleasantries, each wearing blue jeans and a dark t-shirt, and funky, odd, rectangle-framed glasses that by all appearances were purchased together at a two-for-one special. And there was the Queen Bee, who drove up in her big, shiny, chrome-appointed Audi crossover, dwarfing every other proper green-friendly Euro-sized car as it barrelled past them all right to the front door, with sunglasses that looked like they cost more than most of the people in this area make in a year and, of course, smoking a cigarette.

What proceeded when they finally unlocked the gate and released this diverse mass of humanity toward the school can only be described as a goat rodeo. Complete and utter madness doesn't even begin to describe it. Having managed to find her appointed hook, hang her backpack, amend her nametag with a hand-scribbled "Ellie" under her proper name, we left her happily, quietly, playing with the kitchen set as a surprising number of the French kids cried like... well... like little kids. "Ha!" we thought. "We knew she'd be fine!" As Amy recounted, when we picked her up, the teacher, who I'm certain is on the fast track to sainthood, despite the significant tatoo on her shoulder, explained in yet another tourtured Frenglish conversation, that Ellie cried for three hours. Given that we left the school at 9:30 and she wasn't crying, and it was now about 12:10 and she wasn't crying, I privately hoped that Tatoo Lady wasn't the math teacher.

When Ellie came home in the afternoon, she proudly informed me that, among other thrilling activities, she sang "Blue French" songs, which in that one moment justified the countless nights over the past few months that we'd dutifully played her one of the three (color-coded) French kids' song CDs as we put her to bed. Knowing the words to the song... isn't that really the true key to proper assimilation?

Tomorrow the school is closed, then we're back Thursday and Friday, with the hopes that Ellie will continue the success of this afternoon (and that Tatoo Lady sticks with Blue French and steers clear of Red French... we didn't play that one as much!). Cole starts Thursday as well. Should be interesting.