Schools ....

I’ve been holding off on writing about schools because the last week included a lot of new information and changes nearly every day. But – we now have clarity, so here it is!

We waited until last Monday, September 4, to register the children for school. We had heard from a number of people that the administrative personnel in the primary school where we wanted the kids to go (Eva and Dom’s school, the public primary school "Colegio Rio Verde") were not around in the summer, so there was no value in going before September. Also, that on Friday Sept 1, it was not a good idea to go, because there would be many people coming in to greet the principal (Senora Macarena. Her name really is Senora Macarena. Everyone refers to her as just Macarena, although not to her face) and we would have to wait a long time to talk to her. So on Monday, while the kids were at language school, Jess, Piers and I walked up to the school to see whether there would be space for our kids. After waiting about 20 minutes in a queue with other parents with other concerns, Piers had to leave to collect the kids, and Jess and I continued to wait.

Eventually, it was our turn. Senora Macarena is a stern, sturdy, ~60 year old matron, dyed blond(ish) hair, expressive eyebrows, and skin that has spent some time in the summer sun. She smiled sparingly, but she was not unkind.  She complimented Jess on her Spanish when Jess asked whether she had had a nice summer. She gave us a 1-page form, and we proceeded to fill it out, right there on the edge of her desk with the pens we had brought with us. She was uninterested in the reams of paper I had carefully prepared – records from Bexley, vaccination reports, photocopy of passport, residence number, etc. When we finished, we handed the forms over and she inspected each field carefully. About Cyrus, she declared immediately that, born in 2007, he would enter the 5^th grade. We said no, it needs to be fourth grade – he’s only just finished third grade in the US. Senora Macarena raised her eyebrows, looked at us over the top of her eyeglasses and said, there are no exceptions, Cyrus will be in the 5^th grade (I might have imagined the part about the eyeglasses. She did this figuratively if not literally). Jess pushed back once without success, and then turned to me to say in English that I shouldn't worry and she thought Cyrus would do fine in 5^th grade. Senora Macarena could not commit that there was space for Cy in her 5^th grade classes, but it seemed from her expression that there might be. If not, he’d go to a nearby school (Antigua) where he knows a couple of kids from summer camp. There would be a meeting on Thursday, and we should come back then to find out whether he would be at Rio Verde or Antigua. She moved his form to a pile on her desk.

Senora Macarena then moved on to Charlotte’s form. No no no no no she said, seeing 2005 as the birth year and “6” as the grade we had selected. (We had long ago decided to send Charlotte to 6^th grade here because 7^th grade, what she would have done in Bexley, is the start of high school here. There is no middle school. High school here, like in the US, is a huge step up in terms of academics. Without speaking the language, this just seemed like a bad idea). Senora Macarena refused to look at Charlotte’s form any further. We protested once, twice. She was firm – this is the rule, no exceptions. Jess pushed a third time. NO. We would have to send her to high school, thankyouverymuch. There was no communication issue. Sometimes my Spanish is fine, sometimes I falter, but this was exceedingly clear communication. There would not be space at Rio Verde for Charlotte.

I went home. We left the kids and Piers and I went to the better of the two high schools in town. We reviewed the vocab we needed – to enroll (inscribir), to attend (assistir), 12-year-old daughter, grade 7, etc. At this school, we didn’t even get inside the building. I explained through a window – kind of like a take-out food window – to a completely unsmiling and unsympathetic secretary-type person that we had a non-Spanish speaking child who, we had just learned, would need to be in high school instead of primary, and that we hoped she could attend this school. (Just note here the use of conditional, pluperfect and subjunctive verbs required to communicate this relatively simple concept.) After establishing her age, the secretary waived us away dismissively, saying that Charlotte’s grade had been full since March and there was a long wait list.

This was disappointing but not entirely a surprise based on what we had been told about that school. We then walked to the other high school we had been told about, which is actually much closer to our apartment. All we knew about this other school was that it was for the less academically inclined kids, the ones who don’t plan to go to college, who largely leave after 10^th grade. And that it was a little “rough” (this word was left mysteriously undefined). We tried not to be too concerned about this. We walked over to that school to find someone to talk to, and, we hoped, to enroll Charlotte. Outside the school, I AM NOT JOKING, were what appeared to be 18 year old men (students) literally smoking cigarettes and sitting on motorcycles. This did not seem like the place for Charlotte! But the kid has to go to school. We pushed on toward the door, discussing the options for the international school (not great as it is costly and also English-language instruction), also the idea of combining language school plus home schooling for a whole year. This time, we were welcomed into the office (no grumpy secretary at a take-out window). Through the office window, we saw kids who looked like 12-year-olds doing 12-year-old things in the hallway – in other words, a peer group for Charlotte.  Once we explained the conditional/subjunctive/pluperfect situation to the person at the front desk, we were ushered into the office of the most kind, most sympathetic Spaniard we have encountered in the last 6 weeks. He listened to our story with empathy. He 100% agreed that Charlotte should be in 6^th grade, given both her language skills and that we only plan to be in Spain for 1 year. He also explained that Senora Macarena was correct, and that by the book, Charlotte had to be in high school. Also, that he had space for her. Also, that we had all the right paperwork to enroll her, and things would work out fine for her in his school. BUT that he was willing to call the central administrative office in Granada to make the case for her to be in 6^th grade. He took my number and asked us to come back the next day to hear the result. We left feeling 1000x better but of course with no clear answer about where Charlotte would go to school.

We went back the next day. The same guy was there, equally kind and empathetic. But, he had not heard back from the Granada office. There would be a meeting on Thursday, so we should come back on Friday.  

We went back on Friday, feeling open to the idea that Charlotte would be ok in high school with this administrator looking out for her, and, optimistic that he may have been persuasive with the powers-that-be that she really belonged back in primary school. He saw us, welcomed us, but told us he had not yet heard back about where Charlotte would be. We had not been prepared for this possibility – school begins on Monday 9/11, and it’s the Friday before?! But as we waited there chatting about next steps, his cell phone rang. The Granada officials agreed – Charlotte should be in primary school. And not just any primary school, but Colegio Rio Verde, with the imperturbable Macarena (also Eva and Dominic). Great! He wrote us a note on a post-it to give to Macarena.

We left, elated, and walked over to Rio Verde. This had been our 2^nd stop of the morning anyway – we still didn’t know where Cy would do 5^th grade. When we walked in, Macarena was in her office and already apprised of Charlotte’s situation. Charlotte would be in her 6^th grade; and there was space for Cyrus, in the same class as Eva (more on that later). We should take a photo of the supply list for each of their grades, which was hanging in the hallway. She took the enrollment form for Charlotte that she had rejected 5 days before. We needed to bring a passport photo of each kid, and otherwise, she’d see us on Monday on the first day of school. Ultimately, the story ends up right back where it started, with both kids in primary school –  with their cousins – at the school we wanted for them. School starts tomorrow!