High School of Guns and Buns

Not surprisingly, the schools we are zoned for have terrible statistics. In short, they are probably the kind of institutions that churn out scrawny-pole-dancing-teen dad.

Mariachi quartets, solo guitar vocalists, A Capella Doo Wop groups, violinists, accordion players wheezing the theme song from The Godfather, these are just a few of the subway performers that bustle into crowded cars hoping to separate you from a dollar. Them – I can tolerate. It’s the candy peddlers, former drug-addicts and victims of abuse, religious pushers and especially, those horrible, pants-below-their-ass-idiot-pole dancers that really need to be shot.

Bothering people for money on a crowded train is one thing, but to ask riders to give up their seat or “move out of the way unless you gonna get kicked in the face,” is just Communist. So the last group of smelly teenagers who attempted this, I refused to move, to which the “leader”  – a scrawny 17-year-old with a wispy mustache that looked more like a mold growth replied, “Hey lady, I’m doing this to support my two-year-old kid.

I had to confirm that – did he just say he had a 2-year old kid? Yeah? With all the free education, information, housing, food and even condoms, this city gives to any moron who asks – we still have babies making babies?

If I were his mother, I’d slap him. If I were his baby mama’s mama, I’d crush his balls.

That experience was all I needed to start reviewing that big, fat High School Directory my son came home with at the end of 7th grade.

In the past four months, I’ve attended two workshops for parents, to fill out the application. Yes, you read that right, two workshops to fill this shit out. The day before school started, my son had to submit reviews for twenty – as in 5 x 4, or two entrees as Applebee’s – I kid you not – 20 high schools.

We got 14 – and even then, three of them are unrealistic for the commute.

The review asks us to judge the school according to safety (how many students in the school survey felt the school was safe), location, attendance and graduation percentage. Not surprisingly, the schools we are zoned for have terrible statistics. In short, they are probably the kind of institutions that churn out scrawny-pole-dancing-teen dad.

At one of the parent workshops, the speaker felt compelled to explain why the high school application process was like chasing a white rabbit. Apparently, New York, with over 400 high schools, 700 programs, processing about 80,000 applicants a year, has less than a 75% graduation rate. That’s why there’s only one Alice.

The high school programs, no doubt, are designed to wrestle the budding talent out of our kids, nurture it, hone it and hope that’ll keep them engaged to the end. The problem is kids like my son haven’t the faintest idea what a job is, much less their “calling.” When we were listing interesting school activities, he chose International Thespian Club, thinking it had something to do with Medieval times or dwarves for some reason. He crossed it off when he found out that thespians were actors, which he decided is not a career option, but being a lawyer is. If you ask me, they’re the same talent, different stage.

In any case, I told him it’s important to find something he likes to do and pursue it, because otherwise, life will suck. Sometimes, people know their purpose in life – like the dude who took his row boat to Texas to help the hurricane victims. He said, “I always knew it was my purpose in life to help people,” and thought, good for him – he found the purpose of having a row boat and included himself, too.

A high sense of purpose is what makes Alaska the happiest state, according to Weather.com. The saddest state is, get this, Hawaii. Yeah, you’d think, right?

I wondered what sense of purpose could possibly be that high, so I looked up which states had the highest rates of volunteers. Utah ranked the highest for volunteers between the ages of 18 and old folks, while Louisiana ranked the lowest. I was surprised to find that they ranked the opposite for unemployment because if you’re unemployed you kind of have time to volunteer but then I thought, duh, maybe they’re unemployed because they just don’t want to work.

That would be my son. He would do the research for an excuse not to do the work instead of doing the research to get work done. He would argue his case for an hour about not doing a job rather than spend 20 minutes just doing it. Technically, he’s working but it’s just like, the opposite. The undo key, if you will.

Which raised the question, why did we decide to have kids? I mean, is it really up to the parents whether our children become either an asset or a menace to society? Perhaps I’m taking this thing too seriously, but it is high school, and really – when can you not take education too seriously. Seriously.

At times, I can only hope that his luck will see him through – that Italian luck he seems to have inherited from his dad. Whether or not he gets into a high school of his choice is how much effort he puts into his auditions and interviews, because our zoned schools have unintentional programs in concealed weapons and how-to-get-away-with-zero-accountability. In the end, I’ll be happy so long as it’s not a school with more metal detectors than an airport and pregnant classmates in homeroom.

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Author: Namzola_Goodness

A Japanese-American who grew up in the streets of New York during the racially volatile 70’s, Nami blogs with guts, heart and humor. Dysfunctional parenting, cynical citizenship and…love of beer to wash it all down.

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