long days

After L.'s assessment, the psychologist recommended that we switch preschools. The school she was in is very highly-regarded. It's got all kinds of fancy accreditations, a long waiting list, low teacher turnover, developmentally-appropriate non-branded toys -- you name it. The school operates under the idea that a child-led curriculum is best for preschoolers, that the teachers should set up activities and a schedule and pretty much get out of the way and let the kids dictate the rest.

Which is great and fabulous and fine if your kid is developing normally. Sorry, typically (we don't use "normal" anymore. I also got in trouble with the psychologist for using "good" and "bad.") If your kid is not neuro-typical, as they call it, this is kind of a disaster. While Caitlynn and Jackson are off building forts or playing dressup or whatever, Lucy was sitting in a corner, trying on a shoe for 45 minutes. Putting it on. Taking it off. Turning it over and around. Putting it on her head. And no one would step in and redirect her, because that's not what they do. It's child-led.

So, we agreed that it was time for a change. Did the psychologist have a recommendation for a new school that might still have a slot open for her in December? Why yes she did. Now, it's not too fancy, she told us. It's kind of, um, messy, she added. I went to go check it out, and this is where you kind of have to go on faith that the woman you just wrote a really huge check to to tell you what your daughter needs, might actually know what she's talking about. Because this school is a trip. It's like a one room schoolhouse, yet set in the middle of mansions and rolling hills in what must be one of the wealthiest areas I've ever driven through. But the school itself is like the size of our living room. And filled to the brim with more crap than even our garage. The director should shut it down and sell all her original Lincoln Logs and Bristle Blocks on ebay, because she would make a fortune. And it seems to be run by Carnies. That's what runs through my mind every time I go there.

But they are Carnies who can get through to kids when developmental play-based preschools just don't cut it anymore. These two crazy women have a great track record teaching social skills to kids who can't figure it out on their own, and these ladies are totally non-intimidated by L. and all her issues. They'e like -- "Eh, she's nothing. Give me a real challenge." I am filled with doubts every time I drop L. off, and wonder if it was smart to put so many of our eggs in this strangely cluttered basket that also has a TV in the corner (tell me a preschool you've visited lately that has a TV in the corner.) But when no one else will promise me that she will be fine, they do. All the time. Like it never would occur to them for things not to work out for her. They are so unimpressed with her weirdness, and that makes me love them even as I think they are so strange. I love our new Carnie school.