Guest Blogger Jenny Heitz – Page 5

Guest Blogger Jenny: Forget The Carpool. We Need A Bus.

June 17, 2011May 13, 2013 admin 6 Comments

Anyone who’s ever had any sort of school commute understands the intrinsic value of a carpool. It’s the well-oiled support machine that keeps your schedule running and keeps you from revving up and down L.A.’s heinous freeways all week long (I’ve written about the love I have for my carpool before). But sometimes, circumstances beyond your control render the carpool useless. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Cal Trans!

Seriously, Cal Trans is about to ruin my life, and the life of every other school commuting parent heading toward the Westside (which is almost all of them). The scheduled widening of the 405 freeway, along with the closure of the Mulholland Bridge, is about to make the east/west commute into one nasty and serious commitment. Bring water and food, because if you decide to brave that commute come this August, you just might need it.

There’s a bunch of schools up on that stretch of Mulholland Drive, just over that soon to be defunct bridge and the 405. Schools with kids aplenty, like Milken, Curtis, Berkeley Hall, Mirman (Anna’s school), and Westland. The commute was already pretty bad if you came north up the 405, since the Mulholland off ramp has been closed for a while, creating way more traffic on your only other option, Sepulveda.

But now, well, it’s going to be virtually impossible to get there. With the bridge closed, traffic will be forced onto some sort of serpentine route through a hapless Valley neighborhood (I tried this route once, just for kicks, and got lost. It does not bode well). Imagine all those cars snaking through some back route to Mulholland, complete with stop signs and Children Playing signs. Those peaceful neighborhood residents will hate us, and we will curse our sorry vehicular existences.

So you can imagine my delight when Mirman proposed a bus route convenient to Eastsiders like us. Possibly shared with Curtis, it would pick our kids up close by and roll through the Westside. Our children will do homework, talk, possibly snooze, and do whatever else bus riding children do until arrival at their respective schools. This means no commute. This means no more sitting on the 101, sweating the time. This means dismantling the coffee IV drip system currently installed in the car. The bus is the answer.

If we can get enough parents (and thus, kids) on board.

And that’s a big if. Buses, you see, are pretty pricey. You might fork out another couple grand, on top of the tuition, for a twice daily bus route. That’s a lot of money. On the other hand, time is money, and without the bus, time will be lost, never to return. Plus, the gas prices are so insane these days, you could end up spending that much in commuting fuel costs anyway. And let’s not forget that “green” issue, since all those extra cars on the freeway add up to way more emissions than a single bus (I’ve often pondered this while staring at the idling SUVs waiting in the carpool line).

So I’ve done my due diligence on the subject, and went even further: I wrote a very persuasive email missive to every relevant parent on our school carpool list. It was a rational plea for bus usage, and I used every bit of my direct response advertising copywriting skill to make the bus as irresistible a transportation option as has ever rolled the L.A. streets. I charmingly argued and cajoled. All the parents need to do, I wrote, is fill out the online form that merely indicates interest in the bus. It’s not a firm commitment, just an interest. Please. For all that is holy.

The due date for this online form was June 10. I still have no idea if our area made the cut for the route. I hope so, because otherwise, it’s going to be one long school year indeed.

Jenny Heitz has worked as a staff writer for Coast Weekly in Carmel, freelanced in the South Bay, and then switched to advertising copywriting. Her daughter started 4th grade at Mirman School this year. She previously attended 3rd St. Elementary School. Jenny has been published recently in the Daily News and on Mamapedia, The Well Mom, Sane Moms, Hybrid Mom, The Culture Mom and A Child Grows In Brooklyn. She now writes about gift ideas and products on her blog, Find A Toad.

Guest Blogger Jenny: The Frantic End of the Year at Mirman School

June 7, 2011May 13, 2013 admin 7 Comments

While I seem to recall the end of the year at public school ending with a muffled whimper of truncated days and parties with bad cupcakes, the end of the year at Mirman is quite different.

Although the final fundraising push is pretty much finished after the Mirman School Fair, there are still used uniforms to sell, retirement parties (complete with fundraising for the retirement parties), plus various and sundry celebrations. There was an Upper School production of The Sound of Music, complete with very elaborate costumes (I stopped dead in my tracks last week when I spotted a nun in full wimple wandering through the campus).

Mirman even offers something on the “last day” of school called Field Day. Field Day, as far as I can determine, is a bit like “Color Wars” at sleep away camp. Kids are assigned a color to wear (so it’s not a uniform day, but not precisely a free dress day, either), and the colors compete in various events. Just a last minute jolt of good competitive fun before the school breaks for a couple of months. Anna, who’s always up for a contest, is already planning her “blue” outfit.

And then, of course, there’s graduation. Anna’s class is required to attend, lengthening her school year by another half day. I figure it’s good for her to see what’s ahead in terms of pomp and circumstance (although I’m always amazed at the fuss made over these lower level “graduations.” I mean, is there an option to not graduate from middle school? Really? It’s not like they’re earning a doctorate or something). Plus, Mirman is a small enough school that Anna knows some of those middle school graduates, so it becomes more personal.

While I won’t miss the drive over the next couple of months (and indeed, am campaigning like crazy to get a bus for our area. I love my carpool, but we’ve all had enough), I will miss being up at that campus. It’s a lovely, peaceful, happy spot. I’ve never been on a campus where the kids seem so serene and engaged. There’s always something interesting going on, always a topic to discuss, and the kids seem to treat each other with such decency. This first year has been such an overwhelmingly positive experience for our family. Anna has changed in such positive ways, and seems so much more comfortable with herself.

So thanks, Mirman. And we’ll see you in the fall.

Guest Blogger Jenny: The Memories of Mean Girls Endure

May 21, 2011May 13, 2013 admin Leave a comment

I have always fully admitted that I didn’t have a good adolescence. As a smart, somewhat dorky, gawky and bespectacled 13 year old, I entered a fancy, very well known private school. I was a year late because my parents had sort of dropped the ball on the whole middle school thing, so I ended up at Palms Junior High School for 7thgrade (a scary disaster, and then my parents scrambled to get me out of there).

My being a year late to private middle school wasn’t helpful, although in retrospect I don’t think starting in 7th grade at Crossroads would have made a difference. The sort of social scene present there in the early ‘80s was like something out of a John Hughes movie, except with palm fronds waving in the background. The popular girls were very tightly controlled by one girl in particular; she had bigger breasts and was meaner than the rest. Apparently, the other girls had to call this one girl every morning, just to make sure their outfits wouldn’t clash with hers.

My experience in classes with these girls was either that they completely ignored me or laughed at me behind my back. It really didn’t matter if there was a good reason or not. If I did well on, say, an oral report, it got turned into a negative (“You really memorized all that?” one of them asked me once with a sneer). The other option was no response whatsoever, as if I weren’t really there. Once, in 9th grade, I had a Cellophane temporary hair color go awry, turning my hair fairly purple. By 10th grade, this would be common place, but naturally I had to inadvertently be the school pioneer in hair dye. As I skulked through the halls with my hair ablazing, one girl’s announcement was thus: “She just wants attention. Let’s just ignore her.” ‘And how would that be any different from any other day’, I thought to myself.

Sometimes the popular boys followed the mean girls’ lead, making nasty comments about my lack of a bra size, or the aforementioned purple hair (one boy’s comment: “Did someone have her period on your head?”), or somehow turning my good grades into a negative. By sixteen, I was a black haired, black dressed, sulky nightmare of a teen; my parents nicknamed me “The Widow.” I was unfriendly, inadvertently channeling Ally Sheedy’s character in “The Breakfast Club.” Alternately being treated like a nobody or like a freak really weighed on me. Needless to say, college was a relief. Not only could I start over, but college kids weren’t really interested in that sort of victimization, anyway.

Cut to years later, on Facebook, becoming Facebook friends with that head mean girl. She “friended” me; I didn’t seek her out. And I honestly wanted to be the bigger person. After over twenty years, it seemed time to be a grown up. Those days were long gone, right? We exchanged pleasantries and I even featured a book she wrote on my blog. Why not let bygones be bygones.

But then one day, something snapped. A picture was posted online of three of the popular mean girls from my class (including the Facebook friend). It was probably taken a couple of years ago, at the beach, and there they were, the Trifecta of Terror. They looked very much the same. And viewing the image caused me a visceral reaction of rage and shame. Wow. ‘Up yours,’ I thought, staring at their self-satisfied faces with venom.

The funny thing is that those girls so many years ago weren’t even that awful. For all I know, they felt as horrible and awkward and bullied as I did (I’m really, really trying to be very adult here; the main mean girl had even posted, ironically, an anti-bullying article on her updates). These days, girl terror takes on sinister levels of sophistication, using emailing and texting and god knows what else to humiliate the victim. I never had anything like that happen, yet my reaction to those relatively mild tormentors was strong. What will a truly cyber-bullied girl feel years from now?

I think of my daughter, who so far has been able to shake off any nasty mean girl behavior (and who, at least so far, doesn’t seem like a mean girl herself), and I really hope she keeps her sense of self as adolescence approaches. Because as much as I firmly believe in getting over things and getting on with life, some things, like the mean girls, appear to endure, sneaking up to sucker punch you on your Facebook page.

Guest Blogger Jenny: I’m Learning The REAL Cost Of Private Elementary School

May 11, 2011February 21, 2012 admin 2 Comments

Fund-Raising Season Ends At The Merry Spring Fair

As anyone who’s sent her child to private school will tell you, the financial commitment doesn’t end with the insane tuition costs. Not at all.

First off, usually in the first half of the school year, the school (in my case, Mirman), hits you up for annual giving. Although private school tuition is steep, it apparently doesn’t cover expenses. No, there’s a shortfall for each child, and, at least at Mirman, the school keeps it simple by informing you of that exact dollar amount. Even if you can’t swing the whole thing (in the low thousands), you need to give something, because the school needs 100% parent participation in annual giving in order to qualify for grants (which also help fund the school).

Annual giving, however, is just the beginning. There are videos to purchase of your child’s various holiday shows (you will never watch these. Your child will never watch these. But you will have to purchase them nevertheless). If there’s a building campaign, there is additional pressure for donations, even though there’s a chance that your child will never even enter the buildings you fund. There’s “free dress” clothing emblazoned with the school logo to buy. And then, just as the year’s winding to a close, there’s that last push, the Silent Auction/Big Fundraiser.

This last event takes many forms at different schools. Some have a big, fancy, catered dinner. Not Mirman. They have a Spring Fair, an entire day of themed food, games, rides, and activities, funded by you.

This was my daughter’s first at Mirman, and I was pleasantly surprised by the unpretentiousness of the event. The Fair had carnival rides and tons of food (although I really think they could have used a few more food trucks). There was an enormous Silent Auction in the auditorium, stuffed full of gift baskets and extra special seats to sports games (all of which was collected and donated through parental efforts). There were tennis cans filled with our kids’ tiny toys from home, sold off to other kids for 10 bucks a pop. And there was the Bake Sale.

I worked the Bake Sale. For two hours. My impressions are thus: Mirman children are very polite, and, when it comes to baked goods, people will consume just about anything. We sold out of everything by 5pm. Even the gluten free cookies were gone. It was the only bake sale at which I wasn’t even remotely tempted to snatch anything (ok, I did eat one cold, chewy churro). As volunteer stints go, the Bake Sale was great.

My daughter had a wonderful time at the Fair. She ran around with her best friend, terrorizing the place. We were very busy and felt useful. All in all, it was a good experience. Except that I wonder a bit about sustainability.

I mean, how long can private schools keep plowing the same fields for funding, over and over again? By the time the Silent Auction came around, my family was pretty much done giving money. Bidding on items we neither wanted nor needed wasn’t an option. I watched parents dutifully line up to pay their winning bids and collect their goodies, and I wondered if they were as grateful as I am to get a summer fundraising respite.

Guest blogger Jenny: Found, A Note: An Artifact From The World Of A Post Modern Mom

May 1, 2011February 21, 2012 admin 2 Comments

A Found Note

Moms have been tagged with a bunch of monikers over the years. There’s Working Mom, Stay-At-Home Mom, Scary Mom, Holistic Mom, Soccer Mom (which should only apply if the mom actually plays soccer), and now, with nothing else left to call her, the Post Modern Mom.

What does that mean, anyway? Post Modern? It’s a catch all phrase to encompass everything from art to eating to mothering that somehow, is beyond “modern.”

So, I present, as evidence, an actual to-do list from an actual, truly anonymous Post Modern Mom, found three blocks from my home on the sidewalk. If this was the only evidence of the Post Modern Mom found by a civilization five hundred years in the future, or by an alien population, a “reading” of this artifact might go something like this.

Artifact: some sort of hand scribed list, possibly what they used to refer to as a “To Do” list, written by a mother in the post modern period, Los Angeles. Going forward, author referred to as PMM.

Front of artifact has name of luxury establishment, Paradise Point Resort and Spa, printed at top. Location of establishment is in San Diego, yet artifact was found in Los Angeles. Did the PMM visit this establishment at some point for rest and relaxation, thus taking the pad (usually given out free in rooms) with her upon departure, or did the pad belong to someone else? And, if she did go to the spa, did she get the hot stone massage?

Back of artifact contains a To Do List, covering three days in PMM’s life, Friday, Monday and Tuesday. Notice she has omitted the weekend, when presumably she does not require a To Do List.

Friday:

Scratched out “Call Chiro,” which we can only assume is the chiropractor. Our PMM’s body hurts. As it is scratched out, we can safely assume she accomplished this task. Note: it’s the only scratched out item on her list. Replaced by: “Cleaners.” Was she getting her own clothing cleaned, or acting as PMM Sherpa by hauling home 100 laundered men’s dress shirts?
“Call Mammogram.” Again, we can assume this is not a friend or acquaintance with the unfortunate name “Mammogram,” but a reminder to call the facility to either set up an appointment for the procedure or obtain procedure results. If this mammogram is indeed the PMM’s, we can assume she is at least in her late 30’s, and probably over 40.
“Call Sherry to cancel.” Was this for lunch? Coffee? Was the PMM angry at Sherry? What could Sherry have done to inspire cancellation? Poor Sherry.
“Starbucks (over).” Indeed, on the reverse side of the artifact the PMM has a curious list for Starbuck’s shopping. Someone has a yen for vanilla Starbuck’s syrup and needs a plastic bottle. Then, there’s the mysterious “$7”, maybe for the syrup?
“Prada coat?” A touch of glamour in the PMM’s life, perhaps? What is going on with the “Prada coat?” Is she considering a designer purchase? Needs to get it cleaned? Altered? Is going to sell it?
“Contact paper.” In direct contrast to the loveliness of the “Prada coat,” here is the “contact paper.” Looks like the PMM might spend an afternoon on the decidedly mundane task of lining her drawers.
“Pampers—size 2&3?” These are, according to historical records, not large diapers. The PMM has a baby at home. Maybe a huge baby who’s helped to throw PMM’s back out (thus the necessity for a chiropractor). She’s also loyal to a diaper brand and doesn’t use cloth diapers, like the well known “Holistic Mom” types used. Bad PMM!
With a baby at home, and the general feeding frenzy of anxiety over elite preschools in the LA area, we can safely assume the PMM is already doing research and preparing for interviews. The Center For Early Education, or Wagon Wheel, or Montessori Shir-Hashirim might be in the PMM’s future. Will her concern be which “feeder” preschool will get her kid into the “right” private elementary school?

Monday: Note these entries have times attached, indicating appointments rather than free floating errands.

“9:30 Mom to Doc.” Our PMM needs a mammogram, has a baby, and has a parent who requires assistance getting to and from the doctor. PMM wears many hats, and takes care of many bodies.
“2:00 Pilates.” Like many PMMs in the Los Angeles area, our PMM takes private Pilates with a trainer. Work that core.
“4:00 Kimberly.” PMM likes Kimberly more than Sherry.

Tuesday: This day still has the times listed, but less commitments. Maybe PMM is tired?

“1:30 chiropractor.” PMM hurts. Perhaps from Pilates? From hauling the baby? From stress over what to do about the Prada coat? Is this the rescheduled appointment from Friday’s crossed out item?
“2:00 Diana.” Again, poor Sherry.

This lost artifact is just one glimpse into the life of the PMM. She’s the mother of a young child, possibly peri menopausal, child of an aging parent who needs help with appointments. She tries to exercise (Pilates), needs help with adjustment (chiropractor), and must have some use for designer clothing (Prada coat?). She will soon be hurled into the world of preschool entrance interviews at an age when her tolerance for nonsense is descending rapidly. And whoever Sherry is, she was not rescheduled to our knowledge.

Whether the PMM actually got all her tasks done, after losing the list on a Los Angeles corner, is unknown.