The Great School Soap Opera

Ellie standing at the St. George main gate on the day of her interview.

Yes, I admit that we are looking for any possible advantage we can find, hence the adorable pig tails which Ellie usually resists.

We are in the midst of the Great School Soap Opera here in Chile.

A big part of the reason why we wanted to do one more overseas tour before heading back to the US, and why we wanted that tour to be in Latin America, was so the kids could get a strong foundation in Spanish. Sure, we don't speak Spanish at home, and we're not planning on getting a full-time nana (a typical way that gringo kids here pick up some Spanish) but surely in a country of 16 million people, 99.9% of whom speak Spanish, it shouldn't be that tough. And putting the kids in a high-quality Spanish language school should be easy. After all, Chile is known for its good education, the embassy is willing to pay big bucks for our kids' tuition (starting at kindergarten), and we have the cachet of being native English speaking diplomats. Who wouldn't let us in, right?

Wrong. Turns out that public schools here are pretty terrible, so our options are really limited to the relatively few private schools favored by the wealthy. In Chile, the private K-12 school that you go to is of the utmost importance. It's the basis for lifelong friends and networks. Chileans routinely list their elementary school on their CVs. And no wonder, the school that you attend speaks volumes about who you are. Far from embracing diversity as U.S. schools do, Chilean schools embrace very specific identities, and look for families--not just students--who fit those profiles. Each schools is associated with a particular social class, religious view, and political view, as well as being known for particular strengths (athletics, music, art, English, etc.)

Not only that, but schools can afford to be very choosy. There are about 4 applicants for every spot at the good schools. And it's very difficult to transfer in. Classes are formed pre-K, and almost no one transfers out, so it's almost impossible to transfer in. In fact, we've learned that Chileans who are transferred out of the country for work but plan to return after a few years will still pay tuition for those missing years at the school--which can be anywhere from $5,000 to $15,000 a year per child--to keep a place for their children when they return. Plus, schools charge a very hefty one-time initial registration fee ($2,300 at St. George, $8,000 at the school most embassy parents use), so once parents have plopped down that money, they're unlikely to want to pay another school such a large amount so their kids can transfer in.

Almost all Embassy kids here go to Nido de Aguilas, which we toured yesterday. It's an absolutely beautiful facility (and at $15,000 per year, it ought to be) and if you want your Chilean child to learn English, that's the place to go. Nathan and I were amazed at how many signs were up insisting that the kids talk in English. It reminded of history lessons about how we beat Native American kids who spoke in their native tongue. Many of their teachers starting at grades 1 or 2 are Americans or other expats. The curriculum seems good, but even aside from the Spanish thing, it doesn't seem like a good fit for us. For one thing, Elena would be one of only 2-3 native English speakers in her class, and by their cutoff dates would be one of the oldest kids in the class. They told us that for her to start in July (they follow a more or less American calendar), she should know some of her letters and her numbers, so that by the following July (July 2010), after a year of instruction at Nido, she can count up to 50 and know some sight words. Well, she can already count up to 100, knows all her letters, writes her own name, and knows some sight words. Add to that that "Nido de Aguilas" means Eagle's Nest and makes Nathan and I think of Hitler's alpine hideout, and it just doesn't seem like a good fit.

So most Chilean private schools here are in two groups. One group--members of the Association of British Schools--really emphasizes learning English, and so nearly all of their instruction in the early years is in English. Which makes perfect sense for Chilean parents wanting to give their kids a heads up in a globalized world, but isn't going to help our kids learn Spanish.

The other group of private schools are the religious ones--by which here in Chile I mean Catholic. We're not Catholic, but we have no objection to the kids going to Catholic schools. After all, faith is important to us too and in the states lots of Protestant kids go to Catholic schools and it's no big deal. Not so in Chile. Here, politics is very polarized between a very conservative Catholic right--which many of the wealthy are part of--and a more or less secular left, hence Chile's openly agnostic Socialist president. (Who would have thought a year ago that I'd write the words "openly agnostic"? Doesn't seem like a phrase you would ever hear in the US. Somehow the comparison to "openly gay" in the U.S. seems to accurately convey just what a big deal that is here.)

So most of the Catholic schools here serve that very conservative Catholic base. To get in, it's not enough to just be a smart student and have parents who are willing to pay, you have to show that you fit their profile. We just about got laughed out of the first Catholic school we visited. We explained that we had heard good things about the school from friends and that it was close to our home, so we wanted to come in person to learn more. Who were these friends, the admissions officer wanted to know, and what school did they send their kids to?. And she made a point of deriding the location criteria, saying that choosing a school was about much more than location. She told us that in order to apply, we would need to present our marriage certificate to show that Nathan and I had been married in a religious ceremony (it went without saying that children of single or divorced parents need not apply) and to present Elena's baptism certificate. Seemed rather odd, but at least we had those things. But when she found out that we were American Protestants where the wife works and the husband stays home with the kids, she just about fell off her chair. This was not just a Catholic school, this was one identified with the Schoenstatt Catholic movement, a very conservative, Marianist "renewal" movement within the church. Not only were they not interested in accepting Protestants, they really weren't interested in accepting most Catholics--just their particular brand.

We get the same story from many other Catholic schools here, nearly all of which seem to be run by one conservative Catholic group or another--Opus Dei, Legion of Christ, or Schoenstatt. And not only do they not want us, I don't think we really want them either. If you don't like other types of Catholics, forget celebrating religious diversity enough to embrace us Protestants. And emphasizing traditional gender roles seems to be very big. Many of those schools are single-sex, and where they are mixed, boys and girls are in separate classrooms starting in first grade. Apparently one of the things girls are taught is how to knit. Nothing against knitting, but I think I'd rather have my daughter learn math.

We did find two schools that seemed like a good fit for us: St. George, a progressive, well-regarded, Spanish-language Catholic school, and Redland, the only school in the British Schools Association that teaches in Spanish. (The Jesuits also have two schools in Santiago which are also well-regarded progressive Catholic schools, but they are boys only.) We applied at both, thinking that surely we'd get in to one, and we were hoping for St. George, as it seems to have a great curriculum, we like the faith basis, and the students there are known for forming wonderful caring communities. Just what our gringo kids need in a Chilean world.

We've done everything we can to find out about the school (and I mean everything--had American teachers and a monk over for dinners, made contact with the one other American family there, found out which of my work contacts have kids there and who knows the priest who runs the place, etc. Happily, a lot of the folks we've met are really cool people we'll want to stay in touch with whether we get in or not.) After all this, and after applying more than a month ago, last week we endured an interview there. Ellie was interviewed two on one by the school psychologist and the kindergarten teacher, while Nathan and I filled out a "questionnaire" that was actually a 9 part essay exam that we had to fill out simultaneously and without talking with questions ranging from "Describe your child, including positive and negative traits" and "How do you deal with your child when they break family norms?" to "Describe your relationship with God", "Describe your activities of the past weekend" (coming, of course, after a weekend where I hosted a delegation of 8 members of Congress and 18 assorted hangers-on, and so we didn't go to church...), and "What meaning does the Eucharist have for you?". My personal favorite was "What happened last year in Aparecida, Brazil?" I'm hoping that we got a pass on that one, as gringo Protestants who shouldn't be expected to know about some Latin American Catholic bishops' conference that happened when we were living in Cambodia.

We just got a call yesterday from St. George and we (Nathan and I, I think--I need to clarify) have been invited to an interview. So I guess maybe we cleared the first hurdle, and we're on to the second. We've already had a lengthy conversation with the admissions director, written an essay about why we want to get it (on the application), had Ellie go through tests with the school psychologist and kindergarten teacher, and filled out our 9 part essay exams, so I can't imagine there is much more to know about us, but we'll come in and say it all again. Keep your fingers crossed!