Day 3 of Homeschooling

Would you like to hear another Sad Shannon Story?

So to set the stage, you need to know that I did not want to move from the house the kiddos and I found for ourselves after re-grouping from the move from Florida. 

But my income just couldn't keep up with the payments and the greedy landlords kept adding late fees on that made it impossible to stay caught up, even though I was paid in full. I had to break my lease, lose my security deposit, find a new place I could afford, earn the money for first months rent and another security deposit. All within a months time.

This is now 2 landlords who have wrongfully kept money that THEY DID NOT EARN, DID NOT DESERVE and WHO WILL PAY CONSEQUENCES FOR TAKING THAT MONEY FROM MY CHILDREN AND I. 

Mark my words.

Anyway...

The most important thing I focused on while searching for a new home was keeping the kids in the same school. This was the only thing my son, who hates school, asked of me and I respected his need to remain stable, in addition to my daughters love for her own school, teachers, friends and clubs.

It was getting really close.

 I had days to pack up and move, mom and dad are trying to sell their house so they are rehabbing the basement where they put up me and the kids before, it wasn't an option to run back to mommy and daddy.   

I had to be a grown up all by myself and find my own place.

(whine, cry and stamp feet)

 But I found it!

A little town home with 3 bedrooms and they said it's okay to run my propane/oxygen torch in the basement!

I was so relieved, because it kind of looked like I was going to have to close up shop again and I will be honest in saying that if I didn't have the business, I would feel like such a loser.

So I get the approval, I get help moving (Thank you Russell, you have redeemed your family in my eyes) and we begin to settle in once more.

Again.

For the fourth time in 21 months.

I've mentioned how difficult I find change, right? I mean I am a total basket case right now, but I feel good cause at least we aren't living in the van.

I dutifully go up to the school to alert them to my new change of address and give them a phone number where they can reach me.

The receptionist lays a bomb on me;

"She has to go to Warrior Ridge Elementary."

"Whaaaaaaaaaat?", I ask.

"You mean she can't go to school here?"

"No, she is out of the zone."

"What" I ask again, in total disbelief.

"She can't stay in her class for the rest of the year?"

"NO"

I respond with

"I would rather break my lease, lose $1,500 dollars and live in my parents basement than take her out of the school she loves and has been doing so well in." 

I then flip my blond hair, grab up my handbag and stalk out, cause I'm getting really good at dramatic exists. 

I also figure that no one needs to know, right? I mean why can't we all just pretend I never said anything?

But noooooooooooooooooooo, 

this receptionist has to hunt me down, leaving messages on my mom's phone stating that if I do not turn in proof of residency by tomorrow, Makayla would be dropped from the roster. 

So Princess Pinky Pita Pie is being homeschooled.

While I run the business.

While I unpack and set up a new work bench.

And while I deal with some personal crap that is heavy on my mind.

Here is what I find on day 3 after working for a couple of hours in the basement;

The full mattress is flipped up.

The window is wide open.

There is a pocket knife on the floor, in addition to seed beads spilled all over

and her computer is on the vent which has been running our heating unit non-stop due to the fact that her window is open.

I fear for her life and my frail state of mind is now threatened even further.

But I'll be darned if I am going to let this school district get even a penny for her enrollment, after treating her this way.

They would rather have an empty school seat and have no money at all then continue to educate a bright eyed, well-behaved, intelligent little girl who had straight A's and did her best in all areas for another 7 weeks of the school year.

Who only lives 1.4 miles from the school, while the school they insist she start over in is 2.6 miles and a second drop off from her brothers middle school.

Are you as disgusted as I am?

I'm going to tell everybody.

* I want to add that a friend of mine on facebook mentioned there is a waiver that may be granted for out-of-district students. I am going to follow up with that possible option and then write a second letter to the actual receptionist, instructing her on that Really Important Bit of Information that she does not know about or didn't see fit to mention to me as an option.
Hrmph.