The joy of finding schools for your kids

Just when I thought I was done arranging suitable academic environments for my children, I must do it all over again. My daughters are 4 and 6, and have been happily ensconced in our neighborhood elementary school (which miraculously, happens to be one of the most highly ranked schools in our district), and a fabulous preschool five minutes away. It was painful getting them placed in both of the schools: it took me an entire summer to find the preschool for Shelby, my older daughter, which thankfully is the same school which Campbell now attends. Our neighborhood school is over-capacity so we had to camp overnight on the school grounds to simply get on the waiting list. (We rent, but believe me, the homeowners in our neighborhood were beyond livid at how little impact their tax-paying dollars were doing in terms of getting them into their very own public school!)

We were 13th on the list, but somehow or another, through some divine intervention or fateful cancellations from kids ahead of us whose parents opted for private school, we were awarded a spot the summer before her kindergarten year.

It's been smooth sailing the last couple of years, but since we just decided to move to Colorado, now I must restart the process all over again. (Don't worry, I will address the myriad issues involved with moving and uprooting your family in the next couple of blogs… we've done it before, and it doesn't get any easier).


Is it just me, or is finding an appropriate school for your child exceedingly complicated?

Or is it that I, and other parents of my generation, make the process exceedingly complicated with our ridiculously high expectations?

Or have the schools just gotten altogether crappier and/or more expensive?

In truth, I enjoy having a choice in my children's education, but in today's world, parents must decide between a dizzying array of options: private schools, public schools, charter schools, magnet schools, Montessori schools, whole-child schools, "back to basic" schools, language-immersion schools, half-day, full-day, traditional school year, year-round school year, and on and on and on.

Private schools sap whatever disposable income you may have socked away for vacations, college tuition, or that beautiful six-piece redwood outdoor furniture set. If you enroll your child in public schools, which barely have enough budget to pay for teachers’ salaries and basic supplies, count on setting aside part of your budget (and schedule) for costly outside activities public schools used to offer: music, art, dance, foreign language, and on and on and on.

I'm traveling later this week to Denver, to spend some time in the western suburb of Golden where we plan to live for the next year, visiting preschools and scoping out some of the neighborhood schools. I've spent probably 20 hours this week on the phone and online researching schools, talking to parents (which can be helpful but also confusing), talking to principals, the school district, talking to my mother (which can be helpful but also confusing), and on and on and on.

This has left me virtually no time to work, much less keep up with social media and my blog. I had lunch with my dear friend and former colleague Howard today, who scolded me for ignoring my blog for two weeks. Thus, since I can think of nothing else to write about, here I am -- blogging about the challenges of working parents and school-age children. Here is the first hurdle: finding a full-day preschool program that isn't an institutional daycare in disguise. You know what I'm talking about: apathetic instructors, sterile-looking classrooms, too much free time, etc.

A friend of mine has her child enrolled in a wonderful preschool near Golden. It's essentially a farm, where the children get to play and learn about animals and nature in addition to their regular preschool activities. It sounds perfect for my high-energy child -- except that it's only 2 1/2 hours per day, three days a week. After my commute, that gives me a whopping six hours of work coverage. My mother said: “Oh why don't you just enroll her anyway, and I'll take care of her the rest of the time." (My parents also live in Golden).

This is coming from a woman who doesn't have time to do her mandated physical therapy exercises for her shoulder, because she has scheduled herself so thin with other activities such as tennis and golf, volunteering, friends, errands, and on and on and on.

Thus, I must find a preschool with the following criteria: the hours that I need (somewhere between 24 and 30 hours a week), caring and passionate teachers, a healthy learning environment, a focus on not only academics but also arts, plenty of time for fun and free play, a pleasant outdoor area, clean and spacious classrooms, and within my budget. There is also that indescribable, highly subjective "feeling" that one gets with the right school.

Because school is like a second home for your child, most of us look for some sort of emotional connection to the teachers and the program. You have to be comfortable with the setup for your kid's personality, and you want to have some commonalities with the other parents: too many people significantly below your income level gets awkward, too many people significantly above your income level will create another level of anxiety (for me) that basically, I just can't deal with right now. That's just one commonality, of course, but I do believe that socioeconomic differences can create issues if there's not a balance.

I also strongly believe that my kids should be exposed to diversity -- diverse backgrounds, races and religions. In Colorado, it's just not going to be the same as here in the Bay Area where a visit to the grocery store is like a visit to Heathrow airport. I am reconciling myself with this reality -- and also with the reality that in the short time frame that I have to arrange schools for my kids, I'm not going to be entirely satisfied with the result.

But maybe that's a good thing. This whole school business sometimes gets out of hand. Everyone seems to want the perfect environment for their children—at whatever cost. Whatever happened to adaptability? I think there's something to be said about finding the best environment you can to match your kid’s temperament and abilities, but also, not overanalyzing every aspect of it nor expecting a school that will transform your child into the next governor, Nobel scientist, or CEO.

And then there's the question of your own sanity; is there a true ROI from paying private school tuition if a public school is nearly as, or just as, strong? Is it really worthwhile to drive 15 miles out of your way twice daily for your child to attend a particular coveted school? It might be for some people -- I'm not sure it is for me, though.

My husband and I will undoubtedly spend a lot of time selecting schools for our kids -- but whatever happens, I also know that the best we can do for them is to be supportive, interested, and involved parents. If they end up with a B versus an A school next year, I have a hard time seeing how this is going to harm them in the long run. We can always transfer them elsewhere if things don't work out. But you can bet I’m going to have a few more wrinkles by the time August 24th rolls around.

Lowering expectations (can be) the key to happiness

By nature, I'm an idealist. As a young girl, I wanted to be an artist. Later, I imagined myself a photographer -- but my practical, scientifically-oriented father (he holds a PhD in Geophysics) informed me that it would be best to seek a career that actually paid. Darn. Then I went on to journalism school, hoping to catapult myself into the world of foreign correspondents, or diplomacy. Naturally, my first job was with a small, barely funded local newspaper in the suburbs of Denver, writing about the high school prom, burglaries, new restaurants, foreign exchange students, and other glamorous topics—for $7 dollars an hour.

You get the picture. Life isn't always what we expect; in fact, often it's quite foreign from how we had envisioned it when we were wrinkle-free and had few worries other than final exams and whether Joe Hunk will ever call back. (the photo here is of a much younger me, as a college student in Italy...the world was my oyster!)

In my visions as a teen, I was going to be married at the age of 28, traveling internationally at least twice a year, living in a tranquil ocean-side home, doing meaningful, intellectually-stimulating, and well-paying work. Yep, that's just about how things have worked out—minus a few details. I do get paid well for my work, when I get it. So that part, thankfully, came true.

Disappointment comes in many different forms, I've learned.

Sometimes, our image of ourselves is cruelly-shattered, with no warning, from the people whom we love the most.

This morning, which happened to be my birthday, I was driving my four-year-old daughter to preschool, who cheerfully announced from the back seat: "I wish Cooper's mom was my mommy. She has really pretty hair and nice clothes and I really wish that she was my mommy."

Silence.
"Huh,” I replied, in my best "who cares" voice.
"But you are my sweetie lovey-girl mommy and I love you."

Somehow, she redeemed herself with that statement. But still—if I am not appealing to her now, what will she think when she's 13… and I am… over the hill?

As working parents, particularly those of the female genotype, we can be viciously hard on ourselves. We must be perfectly on time, intelligent and responsive to clients! We must always shop organic, cook delicious meals that are never from the freezer, and God forbid give our child a second cookie or more than 10 grams of sugar per day!

We must exercise regularly, straining our stomach muscles because they are the "core" of our physique and without the core we are toast, lift weights 4x/week to avoid the drooping shoulder syndrome of aging women, get plenty of rest, drink 64 ounces of water daily so that our skin doesn't look like a grey sack of potatoes by the time we are 40, use natural cleaning products, attend every field trip at the children's school, volunteer at the children's school at least once a week because they don't have enough help, blah blah blah.

I would like to offer, that it's okay, occasionally, to skip the regular workout. God, nor your mother, will judge you if you serve chicken tenders and pizza from the freezer -- two nights in a row. It's okay, occasionally, to have a glass of wine at 4 PM. You will still be a respectable person if you actually decide not to volunteer at school, church, or elsewhere this year, because you need time with your family.

It's particularly hard for some people to lower their standards and be content with what they can achieve without killing themselves— and look back with fondness at where they have come from and the good people in their lives they been fortunate enough to know and befriend. Because at a certain point, something's got to give—either your standards or your sanity. Trust me, from someone who's been on the other side of sanity at least once in her life, you don't want to go there.

Here's a benefit of working for yourself: when you have a slow week, that's an invitation to actually go do something that you couldn't do if you work in an office for the big mean boss: go to the gym for the "executive workout" in the hot tub, grab a book and head to your favorite coffee shop, call a friend, see a funny movie, walk your dog, shop for something relatively inexpensive yet frivolous. Oh, and here's a wild and crazy idea: take a nap.

If you're like me, and you feel guilty even thinking about doing such things when you could be working on your business, pursuing new clients, cleaning the floors, or revamping your webpage: don’t. I am now giving you a coupon for a guilt-free afternoon before the children come scampering and screaming home from school or daycare, demanding dinner in five minutes and your complete undivided attention at the same time.

Speaking of lowering expectations, we are doing a "staycation" next week, instead of spending money we don't have on a relaxing, lovely, inspirational, stunningly picturesque vacation at a beach resort. I expect to be disappointed -- but I'm also planning to surprise myself (and the little ones) with some fun things to do that don't cost a lot of money. We will go on nature hikes and collect rocks, splash around at the health club pool, eat take-out a couple of nights, and concoct munificent tropical drinks. The kids will stay up a bit late. We’ll eat yummy and occasionally unhealthy snacks. We will do as little housework as possible. And finally, we will lower our expectations about the experience -- and hopefully, be pleasantly surprised at the outcome.

Are we overdosing on social media?

Social networking is the big buzz but sometimes it's just a big headache.

I signed up for Facebook perhaps 8 months ago. Linkedin has been a friend for a couple of years. And then after much procrastination, I joined Twitter one month ago. The other day, a respected colleague sent me an e-mail to join her on Plaxo. Of course, I did.

When does anyone have time to get any actual work done? I'm amazed, particularly when I go on twitter, to find some people posting up to 20 tweets a day. They're filling up my screen, and it's annoying. There should be a limit, don't you think? I'm also realizing, of course, that some people at corporations are actually getting paid to tweet as part of their jobs in PR, marketing, or customer service. Nice for them.

Here's my other gripe: Facebook is for mindless banter about personal life, IMHO. Must this also occur on twitter? I use twitter and LinkedIn for business. Twitter has become a newsfeed of sorts for me -- I can filter on topics of interest to me, such as healthcare, high-tech, and the environment. I wouldn't mind actually getting all of my news this way so that my e-mail inbox could be strictly about taking care of business tasks or messaging friends. So that's one good thing. But unfortunately, social media is all about narcissism and no matter where you go, people just have to talk about themselves in some fashion.

Now that I'm done complaining, I do want to tackle the issue at hand: have we gone overboard on social media? Is social networking simply consuming far too much of our personal and business lives, risking our human relationships and impeding productivity at work? Is there really any measurable and valuable return?

I watched a video briefly yesterday from a man (I'll call him Twitterstar) who has started a service to increase one’s twitter followers. He's now got 40,000 followers. Is that a good thing? Twitterstar certainly thought so, and bragged about his ability to gain nearly $20,000 in income from such followers. Well, that's something for sure. But how much time did he spend to get that $20,000, I wonder? His friend, who was on the video with him, remarked that Twitterstar had spent over 1000 hours on the site—which comes out to about $20 per hour. I wouldn't say that's a fabulous return.

There is a place for social media, but I think the smart business person has to be careful about how they use such sites and limit her actions strictly to business purposes. That's not including Facebook of course -- which is for late night diversion or a five-minute siesta from work in the middle of the day.

For all intents and purposes, social media is still an experiment and it’s still foggy, at least for me personally, how I am going to "monetize" my involvement in these various sites. However, I have pieced together a few basic rules for myself, as follows:

1. I share personal information about myself only on Facebook because I use that site to connect with friends, and friends only.

2. I do not accept friend requests from people whom I don't know well, much less can hardly remember from high school.

3. I do not accept LinkedIn requests from people whom I have never met or talked to on the phone or at least had a decent online conversation with and understand our common interests.

4. On working days, I limit my Facebook time to 10 minutes per day. I don't post everyday unless I have something somewhat useful or thought-provoking to post. (I try to put myself on the other side of that post).

5. I do not post more than 5 or 6 tweets a day, and I never tweet on the weekends.

6. I use any tools and methods I can to make my experiences with the sites more efficient. For instance, on LinkedIn, there are only a couple of groups I belong to that necessitate daily updates to e-mail – but most of my groups are set for weekly digest updates. On Facebook, my settings are such that nothing arrives in my inbox. I go to the site to read everything because I do not want more random stuff filling up my inbox. On twitter, I use an application called TweetDeck to interface with the site. I can do all of my posting and actions from there in a more automated fashion, and I love the way that I can create groups to organize my tweets. That way, I can read the most important stuff first and the other tweets only if I have time.

7. I make a point to use the phone for networking every week, and schedule at least one in-person meeting a month. I also attend a couple networking events every quarter. (See "Face-To-Face Networking Is Still Critical").


Everyone has to set their own rules and limits for social networking. The point is: make sure to do just that. Then you'll have more time for live human interactions, such as hanging out at the beach with your kids...

What are your thoughts on the intersection between social media and business? Are you making any money or deriving quantifiable business benefit from your time spent on these sites? Frazzled mom wants to know!