Daily Archives: 21 March 2011

ain’t all bad

Yesterday we rode our bikes to Zeist! About 18 km in all, just me and the Sniglet. It was the first really nice day this year, and we stopped for french fries and salad and saw lots and lots of countryside. Um, and some freeway…

Actually, Jack, the Sniglet doesn’t usually cry at school, that was new. Usually he gets red and growls and clenches his fists and makes threats, and if you push him too far he opens up a serious can of whoopass. And I’m not defending the whoopass, I’m just saying it’s not a spontaneous event. It is triggered by behavior that I think is also unacceptable. So from the teacher’s side, you know, yay, he didn’t beat the soup out of someone this time. But the behavior that makes him want to, continues unabated.

I haven’t heard back from the teacher yet. She emails a lot less often since I called her a Liar McFlamey-pants to her face.

What? The Dutch are supposed to be plain-spoken. I didn’t think she’d be that upset…

Song du jour of the day: Holiday in Spain, by Bløf & Counting Crows


It’s a really long story, which is why I haven’t tackled it, and every time something else happens, the story gets longer. Basically, this Taalschool (language-school) was established to help foreign children learn Dutch and adapt to Dutch society so they can fit into regular Dutch schools, is what I was told. I was also told – by the director – that students can’t switch to their new at any old time, only at Christmas and summer. When I thought the Sniglet would start in September and transfer to a real school in January, I was okay with it. But this is his second full year at what is basically a separate-but-equal school for icky foreigners, and they told us lie after lie to convince us to keep him there, and to put him in a class that we knew was the wrong choice but they led us to believe we had no other choice and now they want him to go into therapy because he reacts badly to being picked on by the kids in his class, who are all 12. Or 13. And he’s 10. I hate. This school. I hate the lies they tell us, and the lies they tell themselves so they can continue to believe they are good people while screwing over little kids.

There will be more detail later, but it’s after midnight and writing that paragraph has made me unutterably weary.

Song du jour of the day: Miniature Disasters, but K.T. Tunstall