At the last minute I remembered Moomin's new dance lessons. We whooshed off. "So, where is it again? Mom, are you sure you know where it is? What about the directions?" Thanks for the vote of confidence... And I *had* directions. But the Art Ctr was "closed Monday" and dark and no one came to my knock. We tried the building across the street, which turned out to be the library (where I am now.) Yup, that's the building - the closed one. Back across the parking lot in the rain with increasingly-upset-and-balky Moomin. Someone came to my banging on the door this time to tell me to go around the back. IN THE RAIN. Thanks, bitch! Put up a sign next time!
Then the dance class turned out to be 4 tiny blond princesses in pink sweatpants. I'm not kidding. They all were pinked out from head to toe, and all blond. Fuckin' hell. The teacher ignored me, ignored Moomin, I had to ask her 3 times if this was the right class (we were THREE minutes late by their clock... but she acted like I totally pissed on her Cheerios.) Moomin sat down in the furthest possible away spot, and she ignored him some more. Then she pointed me to the sign, which said, Dancers Only, observation day is the last class. So I walked out. Through the window I could see that Moomin couldn't take his shoes off and all the other kids had their shoes off and he was too shy to ask for help from the Ignoring-him bitchwad.
I hung about a bit more, and tried to ask a question or two from the observing Moms with lattes and toddlers in the RAIN. You know when you stand in front of a group of people and are waiting for a pause, or a look, or other acknowledgement, so that you can politely break in... I did that for a good while. And got only quick glances of appraisal and ... dismissal. OH THE BITCHES. So I busted in, asked my question; as one, they made tiny moues of disapproval and bewilderment... I could draw a little cartoon with their thoughts in a shared thought balloon: "What kind of mom would hire a nanny like THAT?" I was all like "Oh great, Badgerina, good day to wear your army pants, Bruce Lee t-shirt, gelled mohawk, and battered fluevog maryjanes, because that ain't going to get you hired as a mom in Poloville."
They did tell me where the library was and I'm grateful. I wonder if I can get my money back and yank him from the class. You'd think the teacher would at least say "What's your name" and invite him to sit down. I mean what the fuck.
Why did I think this would be a real dance class, just cause it was expensive? I should have realized it's expensive to keep out the rabble... rabble like us...
i took ballet as a small child. i think i was five, i was certainly living in plano, tx. anyway, i think my teacher must have been the mother of moomin's teacher. she once laid into me pretty seriously because we were late. late by a smidge. barely late. i just remember looking at her thinking something along the lines of, 'um... hello: FIVE!! not in charge of the car or the timing. why don't you yell at my mom?'
i was too chicken to say anything, though.
my heart goes out to moomin. grrr to stupid teachers who take out their frustrations and prejudices on kids. i hope it gets better for him!
Posted by: sparkle | January 30, 2006 at 03:58 PM
I think the latte moms were scared of me and thought I was a gangsta bitch gonna kick their ass, because I didn't look rich enough to live here. On reflection, they're the sort of people who would be uncomfortable walking down my street. They'd think it was a "dangerous neighborhood".
I'm a little touchy lately, but they were over the top bizarre.
That's okay! I'm going to have a total blast tonight at the Blogher launch party!
And Moomin doesn't have to go back there if he hates it. He could have music lessons instead, maybe.
Posted by: badgerbag | January 30, 2006 at 04:06 PM
What was Moomin's reaction?
Posted by: Barak | January 30, 2006 at 04:29 PM
He was upset about being late, and that he couldn't get his shoes off because the knots were double-knotted. But he liked the class, the "cool music" and hiphop dance moves and he got a sticker. He said he wanted to go back so... maybe next week it won't be so nassssty.
Posted by: badgerbag | January 30, 2006 at 05:13 PM
God, I hate it when things are like that. Just hate hate hate it. That was my daughter's kinder class. By luck of apartment location, we got into the fancypants spensive yupster elementary.
And I felt like a bug, and some of the girls treated my baby like a bug. Until I lost my shit one day and called one of the monsters out for shoving.
I got that a lot in parks in Alameda, too. I have an aversion to parks to this day.
Posted by: Lea | January 30, 2006 at 08:09 PM
Booooo! I have been having experiences like this lately, with other moms and such. I am crabby on your behalf.
Posted by: SJ | January 30, 2006 at 08:47 PM
Yuck! As a mom of a blond pink-clad five-year-old, I say: yuck! Yucky teacher, yucky moms. Only worth it if Moomin LOOOVES it. Bleah.
Posted by: elswhere | January 30, 2006 at 09:07 PM
He seems to love it! Possibly because of getting a sticker.
Posted by: badgerbag | January 30, 2006 at 11:42 PM
I had a mean ballet teacher when I was five too. She was always yelling at me for being late and forgetting my slippers. You know, like it was my fault for forgetting them. Grrrr. Still pissed about it.
Posted by: Ms. Jane | January 31, 2006 at 08:09 AM
Oh, well, you didn't say there were STICKERS. Oh! [said in voice of Emily Litella] Never mind!
Truly, stickers seem to have some incredible superhuman power. I don't quite understand it.
Posted by: elswhere | January 31, 2006 at 10:01 AM