So, I told you last week that I pulled Sophie from the school where she was enrolled for various reasons. I'm not going to write anything about the reasons until I have her new IEP (which is next week). And for those of you who know about these things, yes, I have to have ANOTHER IEP at the "old new school" to transfer Sophie into her "new new school" even though she attended the "old new school" for about eight total hours last week. I have to sit down at the table with her "old new teacher" who will rewrite the goals (the exact same goals, mind you) onto another IEP, authorizing the switch to the new new school, our home school. Then I have to take that new document over to the new new school, and go through enrollment there. Hopefully, Sophie will enter the new new school next week.
That's the way the cookie crumbles, as we used to say.
In the meantime, I thought I'd better go over to the new new school and pick up the new enrollment packet because the forms are numerous and there's a lot of filling out.
Let's kill two birds with one stone, I thought.
So yesterday, I drove over to the new new school and went inside. I picked up my VISITOR badge, asked where the special education office was and then wandered the halls for about twenty minutes, looking for it.
It's a big school. That's just one of the many halls I wandered, halls that have so many classrooms, I lost count. I believe there are close to 3,000 kids in this high school. On the plus side, when I poked my head into doorways, everyone seemed like they were actually learning. Teachers were at white-boards, and kids were taking notes. It was quiet.
I kept wandering the halls.
Yes, that's the same picture. I just wanted you to feel, a bit, the aimlessness of my wandering.
I finally found the special education office, and the very nice man inside told me that I actually needed to go back to the main office where they processed enrollment forms.
Oh, I said.
When I got to the main office, the receptionist told me that I needed to go to Room 38 on the first floor, just around the corner, because all enrollment forms were dispensed there.
Oh, I said, Thank you.
I found Room 38:
Eventually, the Enrollment Package Lady returned to Room 38, and I left the school to go pick up my sons from their schools. (Yes, schools in the plural because we are now a family with three children in three different school locations).
While I was waiting in the carpool line, I started flipping through Sophie's enrollment package and began reading the new school's dress code. You must remember that the old new school was an all-special needs campus, and this new new school is a general education campus with a special day class that Sophie will be in.
I almost broke out laughing when I read the dress code because it's certainly emblematic of what we're getting into. Here are a few examples:
Blankety-Blank High School
1. No hats on Blankety Blank High School campus unless part of a school activity.
2. No hair nets, bandannas, wave caps, shower caps or rollers.
3. No belt buckles with initials or extra long belts.
4. No handkerchiefs ("rags"). No red or blue shoe laces.
5. No baggy pants (if belts removed pants fall below hips), cut-off pants with high scoks, pants with spit seams, pants with staples, tacks or safety pins.
6. No see-through or mesh shirts or any clothing that becomes associated with an off campus group or gang.
7. No bathing suit tops, blouses or shirts, which expose the mid-riff or back, no tank tops.
8. No T-shirts or other items of clothing with profanity, with messages that may be inappropriate or offensive or which promote/advertise the use of controlled substances.
9. No white pressed T-shirts are to be worn as outer clothing.
10. No Walkman type radios/headphones/cassette players are allowed.
11. No beepers/cell phones are allowed on campus without the permission of the principal.
12. No unbuttoned shirts with expose the chest.
13. No sunglasses worn in any buildings, classrooms or offices.
14. No plaid or "Pendleton" type shirts buttoned to the neck.
15. No articles of clothing with "Kings" or "Raiders."
My boys and I are relieved that Sophie can't wear curlers to school, but we're wondering whether she can wear her bandannas.
It's a big city, folks, and an even bigger world.