Arguably the most successful franchise of the miniverse in the last 5 years has been the GoKids phenomenon. Even 2 years ago, random strangers in the supermarket would know something about what it was — that's the measure of the impact it's had. We frequently laud the example that it is, of the translation from revelation to action, to the Kingdom, and from there, to infinity and beyond. Esther, who drives the whole proverbial GoKids bus, who you might say built the bus, strikes a chord with parents all over this fantasy island with her blogposts that underpin, expound on, and grease the wheels for the spectrum of events — play days, parties, seminars, parenting groups, associated with the GoKids brand. The name of her blog in Canto is evocative, but translates rather prosaically to "The kids in my home don't attend kindy". So what? Right? Well, it is a big deal here to say that. Especially if you say it loudly. In a way, just that title became the voice for a cohort of parents who wanted to buck the system, but saw no other way. So they came to the wilderness to see, and GoKids became a mild preoccupation of the miniverse. K and I were briefly caught up in it, pre-Jude.
Then, this weekend past, Jude went for an interview for a spot in a kindergarten across the street from us. As much as the whole idea of interviewing 2 year-olds is ludicrous, we thought the proximity of what could just amount to free child-care for a few hours a day might be worth a punt.
You might say that the rubber finally hit the road.
I can't say what the staff at the kindy who saw Jude would have gleaned from their interaction with him, but it surely couldn't have been much. They watched him in the play room, and then got him to play a strictly regulated game, and then tried to get him to sing along to a song he'd never heard. All in incomprehensible-to-Jude Canto. Bless the kid, it didn't faze him and he kept trying to have a little fun, but if that was all they needed, in order to make a decision on enrolment, it was pretty meaningless. It felt like the cavalier baristas at Starschmucks who ask for your name, so they can make use of it in their production process, to make it more efficient and seemingly warmer. I left the school feeling mildly conniptive and exponentially disinclined to be suckered into this state-wide enterprise of performance education. The proverbial chooks of parental angst, over a dysfunctional system that masquerades in plain sight as a one of excellence, came home at last to roost. O the joys.
Here are Jude and his everyday mate, Ovaltine, in a rare moment of concurrent repose. They get up to a fair bit, and then a bit more when they get together, which is everday, just about. I love it. Even when they drive K or I, just a leedle beet crazy. I might change my tune when #2 arrives, but let's hang on to the crazy for a bit longer, right?
the next day, Farcebook telepathically included a post about these people on my news feed. They talk about the Island State Motherland on this site, but it's the same education paradigm. Partly, that sets off a whole lotta alarm bells since that interview or anything about it was never on FB, although emails and texts were, so is FB harvesting data off other online sources to inform my news feed? Then another part is like, wow thanks FB, you really have a knack for knowing what I might be interested in.
I guess Jude and his unborn sibling will have some home school in their heritage after all. That, or we're moving to Finland. And going offline.