Pre-school and pagan rituals

So, the other morning I said a prayer to the Goddess of Good Behavior and walked into an “informal playgroup” at the pre-school we would like Maria to attend next Fall. It’s the mucho expensive Spanish immersion one. We did drink the Kool-Aid. This was Step Two of Three in the application process.

When we got there three other little girls were there with their parents. Maria was greeted by the awesome Catalana who would be her teacher. La Catalana invited Maria to join her on a mat to play with some interlocking building blocks. “Um, no thanks,” Maria told her. Well, at least she was polite. Better than the “Don’t talk to me!” she has yelled at strangers on lesser days.

Off she went to stick plastic coins in a small slotted box. The Catalana moved on. She chit chatted with us and with the other families. We made nice nice with the director of admissions while Maria kept sticking coins in a slot.

I used to laugh at people who put themselves through this popularity contest of sorts. My god, she’s only 3. But again, there’s been Kool-Aid and the realization that I need help and community if this bilingual thing is going to work in the long run.

Maria eventually moved on to the Play-Doh. She turned to me and said: “Look Mami, I made a mountain.” The Catalana said: “Maria, como se dice mountain en español?” She asked her a few times. Maria looked down at her mountain of pink. I held my breath. I think my husband did too.

“Montaña,” finally came the reply.

Score!

Despite our daughter’s genius, beauty and bilingualism, there is no guarantee she will be admitted. They told us they got an outrageous amount of applicants for the immersion class.

My husband does not share my doubt. He is certain Maria will be accepted.

“Hey, don’t worry, I threw the coconuts. We’re in.”

I didn’t teach him that.