Anonymous wrote:Our daughter started preK at a private school last September. We really wrestled with sending her there vs. sending her to public school for many reasons, one of which is that we knew that as parents, we'd fit in way better at public school.

Well, that has turned out to be true. I'm finding it hard to connect and find common ground with other parents in my daughter's class. Many (most) of them are very wealthy, while we are middle class and receive financial aid. Most of the moms don't work, most families don't live in our town, etc. By contrast, we have such a lovely community of parent friends at our preschool (our daughter went there, our younger son is still there), and we're really missing it.

We decided to send her to private school because the education is top-notch and we couldn't pass up that opportunity for our daughter. But I'm wishing that we as parents had more of a community at school. We are friendly/cordial with other parents at school events etc., but I can't really envision socializing with any of the, We're just not finding "our people," and that feels a little lonely/isolating.

Has anyone else experienced the same thing and can share some suggestions or commiseration?

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:You guys sounds needy.

Yeah, so needy they had to post twice!

Not a good move, OP. Two confusing threads, inefficient, unorganized. Work on that!

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Ask yourself this - if you don't feel like you have much in common with the parents, how do you think your child feels? Do you think she'll fit in/feel comfortable at the school? If these people don't have the same values as you -- perhaps this isn't where your daughter should be.

This +100.

We have financial aid kids in my children’s middle and elementary schools, and these are the hidden issues. There are just too many opportunities for awkward moments and faux pas events with these kids who MIGHT be cognitively “bright” but socially clueless and woefully lacking in emotional and cultural intelligence.

A couple of years ago my son thought he wanted to be friends with this boy in his class. He had a working-class nickname...let’s say it was “Spike” (or something of that ilk”.

My son invited “Spike” to his birthday party. The teacher strongly encouraged parents to invite all kids if invitations were distributed in school, and it was just easier to do so.

We had the party at the club, and Spike’s Mom, an overweight housekeeper at a Days Inn, went on and on about how touched they were and that they’d love to reciprocate and have my son over for KFC. I smiled and said my son has a specific diet that precludes a lot of dining options, and then excused myself to greet other guests.

Spike was one of those overly helpful kids, who doesn’t know what it means to be a guest and thinks somehow his “help” is needed to support the staff we members pay for in our dues . I know it was just a reflection of his discomfort, but that’s exactly why he didn’t really belong in the school no matter how much his cognitive gifts made him a recipient of “aid”.

The end, though, was the kicker. The party is ending and parents, nannies and au pairs are picking up their kids. I don’t mind the domestic childcare people as they are all well-dressed and not doing this as a career. Princess Diana and Elim Nordegren would be dowdy in comparison to some of these sweet young things.

Then Spike’s Dad rolls up. Imagine what a man who names his son “Spike” looks like. Short. Stocky. Work clothes. Steel toed shoes with duct tape (!!!) holding the soles together. Patches on each knee, and another patch on his work jacket. Comes up and thanks me for hosting his son, and babbles about the opportunity his kid is getting that he never got—-forgetting of course that I’M PAYING for that opportunity. Nice.

So he takes Spike and says they “gotta” make one more stop on the way home. At 7:00 PM on a Saturday.
See. Spike, while telling me how the run of the mill club spread was the “BEST meal” he’d ever had, told me dessert sure beat the candy bars in his Dad’s
Vending machines.

That’s right. Spike’s Dad couldn’t get his job done and kept his kid out so he could “hit” one more set of machines.

I’m sure DCUM will get all huffy about how I talk about this boy Spike and his family. But I write this way so you can see just how huge the gulf is.
Spike no more belongs on scholarship in my children’s school than my children do at say Wakefield in Arlington or George Mason in Falls Church. He belongs where he can be a fish in a small pond, not a guppy in the Caribbean. He’s going to be humiliated Day after day as parents don’t let their kids visit his Section 8 apartment in his “transitional” neighborhood, as coaches here ask how he can play basketball without attending camps. And sadly, as beautiful young women inevitably mock him as he clumsily tries to ask them out.

Spike is a sweet, sweet boy...but our school (and his naive parents) are doing him a huge disservice in pretending his natural intelligence and work ethic can somehow compensate for the demoralization that happens when you realize that despite it all, you just don’t belong. We need to get charter schools all throughout the country so the Spikes can find an alternative to public school hellholes without being thrown as malformed babies into an ocean where they will drown psychologically and emotionally.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Ask yourself this - if you don't feel like you have much in common with the parents, how do you think your child feels? Do you think she'll fit in/feel comfortable at the school? If these people don't have the same values as you -- perhaps this isn't where your daughter should be.

This +100.

We have financial aid kids in my children’s middle and elementary schools, and these are the hidden issues. There are just too many opportunities for awkward moments and faux pas events with these kids who MIGHT be cognitively “bright” but socially clueless and woefully lacking in emotional and cultural intelligence.

A couple of years ago my son thought he wanted to be friends with this boy in his class. He had a working-class nickname...let’s say it was “Spike” (or something of that ilk”.

My son invited “Spike” to his birthday party. The teacher strongly encouraged parents to invite all kids if invitations were distributed in school, and it was just easier to do so.

We had the party at the club, and Spike’s Mom, an overweight housekeeper at a Days Inn, went on and on about how touched they were and that they’d love to reciprocate and have my son over for KFC. I smiled and said my son has a specific diet that precludes a lot of dining options, and then excused myself to greet other guests.

Spike was one of those overly helpful kids, who doesn’t know what it means to be a guest and thinks somehow his “help” is needed to support the staff we members pay for in our dues . I know it was just a reflection of his discomfort, but that’s exactly why he didn’t really belong in the school no matter how much his cognitive gifts made him a recipient of “aid”.

The end, though, was the kicker. The party is ending and parents, nannies and au pairs are picking up their kids. I don’t mind the domestic childcare people as they are all well-dressed and not doing this as a career. Princess Diana and Elim Nordegren would be dowdy in comparison to some of these sweet young things.

Then Spike’s Dad rolls up. Imagine what a man who names his son “Spike” looks like. Short. Stocky. Work clothes. Steel toed shoes with duct tape (!!!) holding the soles together. Patches on each knee, and another patch on his work jacket. Comes up and thanks me for hosting his son, and babbles about the opportunity his kid is getting that he never got—-forgetting of course that I’M PAYING for that opportunity. Nice.

So he takes Spike and says they “gotta” make one more stop on the way home. At 7:00 PM on a Saturday.
See. Spike, while telling me how the run of the mill club spread was the “BEST meal” he’d ever had, told me dessert sure beat the candy bars in his Dad’s
Vending machines.

That’s right. Spike’s Dad couldn’t get his job done and kept his kid out so he could “hit” one more set of machines.

I’m sure DCUM will get all huffy about how I talk about this boy Spike and his family. But I write this way so you can see just how huge the gulf is.
Spike no more belongs on scholarship in my children’s school than my children do at say Wakefield in Arlington or George Mason in Falls Church. He belongs where he can be a fish in a small pond, not a guppy in the Caribbean. He’s going to be humiliated Day after day as parents don’t let their kids visit his Section 8 apartment in his “transitional” neighborhood, as coaches here ask how he can play basketball without attending camps. And sadly, as beautiful young women inevitably mock him as he clumsily tries to ask them out.

Spike is a sweet, sweet boy...but our school (and his naive parents) are doing him a huge disservice in pretending his natural intelligence and work ethic can somehow compensate for the demoralization that happens when you realize that despite it all, you just don’t belong. We need to get charter schools all throughout the country so the Spikes can find an alternative to public school hellholes without being thrown as malformed babies into an ocean where they will drown psychologically and emotionally.

Anonymous wrote:You guys sounds needy.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:This thread is five years old.

I hope Spike is stomping on someone, somewhere, right now.

Anonymous wrote:Spike kid may be made up, but the moral of the story is not that off the mark.

We purposefully chose a school cluster that wasn't "wealthy" because of this very issue. We are UMC, but I like to live frugally. My kids don't have the latest gadgets or name brand stuff. They shop at goodwill with their friends.

Even so, some of DC's friends do come from money, and they have really nice stuff, and go on really nice vacations, and DCs don't have that and notice it. They don't complain about it because they have a comfortable life, but imagine if you are the only kid in your group of friends who has never been on a plane, let alone a nice vacation (we have), or shops at Target for their clothes (my kids have done) rather than the name brand stores.

It takes a really strong self aware kid to not mind being the odd one out.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Ask yourself this - if you don't feel like you have much in common with the parents, how do you think your child feels? Do you think she'll fit in/feel comfortable at the school? If these people don't have the same values as you -- perhaps this isn't where your daughter should be.

This +100.

We have financial aid kids in my children’s middle and elementary schools, and these are the hidden issues. There are just too many opportunities for awkward moments and faux pas events with these kids who MIGHT be cognitively “bright” but socially clueless and woefully lacking in emotional and cultural intelligence.

A couple of years ago my son thought he wanted to be friends with this boy in his class. He had a working-class nickname...let’s say it was “Spike” (or something of that ilk”.

My son invited “Spike” to his birthday party. The teacher strongly encouraged parents to invite all kids if invitations were distributed in school, and it was just easier to do so.

We had the party at the club, and Spike’s Mom, an overweight housekeeper at a Days Inn, went on and on about how touched they were and that they’d love to reciprocate and have my son over for KFC. I smiled and said my son has a specific diet that precludes a lot of dining options, and then excused myself to greet other guests.

Spike was one of those overly helpful kids, who doesn’t know what it means to be a guest and thinks somehow his “help” is needed to support the staff we members pay for in our dues . I know it was just a reflection of his discomfort, but that’s exactly why he didn’t really belong in the school no matter how much his cognitive gifts made him a recipient of “aid”.

The end, though, was the kicker. The party is ending and parents, nannies and au pairs are picking up their kids. I don’t mind the domestic childcare people as they are all well-dressed and not doing this as a career. Princess Diana and Elim Nordegren would be dowdy in comparison to some of these sweet young things.

Then Spike’s Dad rolls up. Imagine what a man who names his son “Spike” looks like. Short. Stocky. Work clothes. Steel toed shoes with duct tape (!!!) holding the soles together. Patches on each knee, and another patch on his work jacket. Comes up and thanks me for hosting his son, and babbles about the opportunity his kid is getting that he never got—-forgetting of course that I’M PAYING for that opportunity. Nice.

So he takes Spike and says they “gotta” make one more stop on the way home. At 7:00 PM on a Saturday.
See. Spike, while telling me how the run of the mill club spread was the “BEST meal” he’d ever had, told me dessert sure beat the candy bars in his Dad’s
Vending machines.

That’s right. Spike’s Dad couldn’t get his job done and kept his kid out so he could “hit” one more set of machines.

I’m sure DCUM will get all huffy about how I talk about this boy Spike and his family. But I write this way so you can see just how huge the gulf is.
Spike no more belongs on scholarship in my children’s school than my children do at say Wakefield in Arlington or George Mason in Falls Church. He belongs where he can be a fish in a small pond, not a guppy in the Caribbean. He’s going to be humiliated Day after day as parents don’t let their kids visit his Section 8 apartment in his “transitional” neighborhood, as coaches here ask how he can play basketball without attending camps. And sadly, as beautiful young women inevitably mock him as he clumsily tries to ask them out.

Spike is a sweet, sweet boy...but our school (and his naive parents) are doing him a huge disservice in pretending his natural intelligence and work ethic can somehow compensate for the demoralization that happens when you realize that despite it all, you just don’t belong. We need to get charter schools all throughout the country so the Spikes can find an alternative to public school hellholes without being thrown as malformed babies into an ocean where they will drown psychologically and emotionally.

My jaw is on the floor that you are too special to walk on. Somewhere in your post is a point - but you drowned it in your ocean of arrogance, ignorance and astounding self-importance. I felt ashamed for you while reading this. Spike is better off in his own element that is for sure.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Ask yourself this - if you don't feel like you have much in common with the parents, how do you think your child feels? Do you think she'll fit in/feel comfortable at the school? If these people don't have the same values as you -- perhaps this isn't where your daughter should be.

This +100.

We have financial aid kids in my children’s middle and elementary schools, and these are the hidden issues. There are just too many opportunities for awkward moments and faux pas events with these kids who MIGHT be cognitively “bright” but socially clueless and woefully lacking in emotional and cultural intelligence.

A couple of years ago my son thought he wanted to be friends with this boy in his class. He had a working-class nickname...let’s say it was “Spike” (or something of that ilk”.

My son invited “Spike” to his birthday party. The teacher strongly encouraged parents to invite all kids if invitations were distributed in school, and it was just easier to do so.

We had the party at the club, and Spike’s Mom, an overweight housekeeper at a Days Inn, went on and on about how touched they were and that they’d love to reciprocate and have my son over for KFC. I smiled and said my son has a specific diet that precludes a lot of dining options, and then excused myself to greet other guests.

Spike was one of those overly helpful kids, who doesn’t know what it means to be a guest and thinks somehow his “help” is needed to support the staff we members pay for in our dues . I know it was just a reflection of his discomfort, but that’s exactly why he didn’t really belong in the school no matter how much his cognitive gifts made him a recipient of “aid”.

The end, though, was the kicker. The party is ending and parents, nannies and au pairs are picking up their kids. I don’t mind the domestic childcare people as they are all well-dressed and not doing this as a career. Princess Diana and Elim Nordegren would be dowdy in comparison to some of these sweet young things.

Then Spike’s Dad rolls up. Imagine what a man who names his son “Spike” looks like. Short. Stocky. Work clothes. Steel toed shoes with duct tape (!!!) holding the soles together. Patches on each knee, and another patch on his work jacket. Comes up and thanks me for hosting his son, and babbles about the opportunity his kid is getting that he never got—-forgetting of course that I’M PAYING for that opportunity. Nice.

So he takes Spike and says they “gotta” make one more stop on the way home. At 7:00 PM on a Saturday.
See. Spike, while telling me how the run of the mill club spread was the “BEST meal” he’d ever had, told me dessert sure beat the candy bars in his Dad’s
Vending machines.

That’s right. Spike’s Dad couldn’t get his job done and kept his kid out so he could “hit” one more set of machines.

I’m sure DCUM will get all huffy about how I talk about this boy Spike and his family. But I write this way so you can see just how huge the gulf is.
Spike no more belongs on scholarship in my children’s school than my children do at say Wakefield in Arlington or George Mason in Falls Church. He belongs where he can be a fish in a small pond, not a guppy in the Caribbean. He’s going to be humiliated Day after day as parents don’t let their kids visit his Section 8 apartment in his “transitional” neighborhood, as coaches here ask how he can play basketball without attending camps. And sadly, as beautiful young women inevitably mock him as he clumsily tries to ask them out.

Spike is a sweet, sweet boy...but our school (and his naive parents) are doing him a huge disservice in pretending his natural intelligence and work ethic can somehow compensate for the demoralization that happens when you realize that despite it all, you just don’t belong. We need to get charter schools all throughout the country so the Spikes can find an alternative to public school hellholes without being thrown as malformed babies into an ocean where they will drown psychologically and emotionally.

Anonymous wrote:Our daughter started preK at a private school last September. We really wrestled with sending her there vs. sending her to public school for many reasons, one of which is that we knew that as parents, we'd fit in way better at public school.

Well, that has turned out to be true. I'm finding it hard to connect and find common ground with other parents in my daughter's class. Many (most) of them are very wealthy, while we are middle class and receive financial aid. Most of the moms don't work, most families don't live in our town, etc. By contrast, we have such a lovely community of parent friends at our preschool (our daughter went there, our younger son is still there), and we're really missing it.

We decided to send her to private school because the education is top-notch and we couldn't pass up that opportunity for our daughter. But I'm wishing that we as parents had more of a community at school. We are friendly/cordial with other parents at school events etc., but I can't really envision socializing with any of the, We're just not finding "our people," and that feels a little lonely/isolating.

Has anyone else experienced the same thing and can share some suggestions or commiseration?

Anonymous wrote:Spike kid may be made up, but the moral of the story is not that off the mark.

We purposefully chose a school cluster that wasn't "wealthy" because of this very issue. We are UMC, but I like to live frugally. My kids don't have the latest gadgets or name brand stuff. They shop at goodwill with their friends.

Even so, some of DC's friends do come from money, and they have really nice stuff, and go on really nice vacations, and DCs don't have that and notice it. They don't complain about it because they have a comfortable life, but imagine if you are the only kid in your group of friends who has never been on a plane, let alone a nice vacation (we have), or shops at Target for their clothes (my kids have done) rather than the name brand stores.

It takes a really strong self aware kid to not mind being the odd one out.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Ask yourself this - if you don't feel like you have much in common with the parents, how do you think your child feels? Do you think she'll fit in/feel comfortable at the school? If these people don't have the same values as you -- perhaps this isn't where your daughter should be.

This +100.

We have financial aid kids in my children’s middle and elementary schools, and these are the hidden issues. There are just too many opportunities for awkward moments and faux pas events with these kids who MIGHT be cognitively “bright” but socially clueless and woefully lacking in emotional and cultural intelligence.

A couple of years ago my son thought he wanted to be friends with this boy in his class. He had a working-class nickname...let’s say it was “Spike” (or something of that ilk”.

My son invited “Spike” to his birthday party. The teacher strongly encouraged parents to invite all kids if invitations were distributed in school, and it was just easier to do so.

We had the party at the club, and Spike’s Mom, an overweight housekeeper at a Days Inn, went on and on about how touched they were and that they’d love to reciprocate and have my son over for KFC. I smiled and said my son has a specific diet that precludes a lot of dining options, and then excused myself to greet other guests.

Spike was one of those overly helpful kids, who doesn’t know what it means to be a guest and thinks somehow his “help” is needed to support the staff we members pay for in our dues . I know it was just a reflection of his discomfort, but that’s exactly why he didn’t really belong in the school no matter how much his cognitive gifts made him a recipient of “aid”.

The end, though, was the kicker. The party is ending and parents, nannies and au pairs are picking up their kids. I don’t mind the domestic childcare people as they are all well-dressed and not doing this as a career. Princess Diana and Elim Nordegren would be dowdy in comparison to some of these sweet young things.

Then Spike’s Dad rolls up. Imagine what a man who names his son “Spike” looks like. Short. Stocky. Work clothes. Steel toed shoes with duct tape (!!!) holding the soles together. Patches on each knee, and another patch on his work jacket. Comes up and thanks me for hosting his son, and babbles about the opportunity his kid is getting that he never got—-forgetting of course that I’M PAYING for that opportunity. Nice.

So he takes Spike and says they “gotta” make one more stop on the way home. At 7:00 PM on a Saturday.
See. Spike, while telling me how the run of the mill club spread was the “BEST meal” he’d ever had, told me dessert sure beat the candy bars in his Dad’s
Vending machines.

That’s right. Spike’s Dad couldn’t get his job done and kept his kid out so he could “hit” one more set of machines.

I’m sure DCUM will get all huffy about how I talk about this boy Spike and his family. But I write this way so you can see just how huge the gulf is.
Spike no more belongs on scholarship in my children’s school than my children do at say Wakefield in Arlington or George Mason in Falls Church. He belongs where he can be a fish in a small pond, not a guppy in the Caribbean. He’s going to be humiliated Day after day as parents don’t let their kids visit his Section 8 apartment in his “transitional” neighborhood, as coaches here ask how he can play basketball without attending camps. And sadly, as beautiful young women inevitably mock him as he clumsily tries to ask them out.

Spike is a sweet, sweet boy...but our school (and his naive parents) are doing him a huge disservice in pretending his natural intelligence and work ethic can somehow compensate for the demoralization that happens when you realize that despite it all, you just don’t belong. We need to get charter schools all throughout the country so the Spikes can find an alternative to public school hellholes without being thrown as malformed babies into an ocean where they will drown psychologically and emotionally.

private school parents would probably much more accepting of these families (being nice to these parents/kids would make them feel good about themselves) than of run of the miller super boring middle class families

No, the private school parents absolutely wouldn't. I know from experience.

I was unfortunately a private school lifer; my parents sacrificed to send me to private school-from an academic point of view it was fine, but socially? All the "poor" kids stuck together because we were just ignored socially, and it became much worse in high school.

Anonymous wrote:This thread is five years old.