"God only knows, a Kuwaiti woman is uneducated and
is only good for shopping and raza at coffee shops and restaurants."
Want to know why I wrote that? Read the post!
Inside the Petite Section building.As you know, the boys are back in school. Every year I get very excited and go overboard to prepare them for school. This year I'm not. Even though it is Ahmed's first year in Pre Kg I can't muster any excitement. I don't know, maybe because I feel disappointed in the school and I lost faith in it. I have decided it would be the last year for Abdulaziz, and then I'm moving him to a different school system. Thank God he is also fluent in English too or it would have been a little problem. Like every first day of school year. It was chaos. Abdulaziz hurried inside the school building without giving me a chance to say goodbye and when I wanted to follow him, there was a rude woman at the door, I can't call her a lady there is nothing ladylike about her, prevented me from going in. Ok, I understand school rules for parents not going in with their 4th grade boys, but to say it in the rudest way imaginable, when I was politely asking her if it is possible because I didn't take a picture of my sons first day of school. It was the first time in my child's life I didn't take a picture of him on his first day of school. A daunting start to the school year...allah yaster! With Ahmed it wasn't that hard. Except they didn't notify the parents that Pre KG and KG will start at 9.30 AM while parents were standing outside waiting for the doors to open from 7.30 AM! I got an email about the increasing amount of school tuition fees but I didn't get an email about school timing. So I was standing outside with other moms, and one of them remarked, "Is it me or is it only our kids who are in Uniform?" The other moms look around and we notice our kids are the only ones in their white polo shirts and dark blue pants. Some kids are wearing plain t-shirts and others colored t-shirts. E7na alwa7eedeen ili 5abeen 3omerna 3ala 3yalna! Wel mushkila ina they don't take our kids seriously. "Snobby Rich Kuwaiti" as the rumor goes in that school, "Will graduate with their money". So 9.30, I'm back with Ahmed to the "Petite Section" building. Again total chaos, but here it's understandable. First day of school for little kids, and most of them were crying. Ahmed, of course held on to me, he didn't cry, but he also didn't like the situation in his class where most of his class mates were crying their eyes out. I've learned years ago, your image will seal the fate of your child. If you looked the "Snobby Rich Kuwaiti" they will not give a damn about your kid. So I was dressed down in a nondescript twin set and cropped jeans, my hair in their natural chaotic curly form held on by a plain head band, minimal makeup, nothing flashy. No handbag, just my mobile and Camera. So I introduced Ahmed to the teacher, and talked with her for few minutes in fluent "French", and I could see she is trying to make out what nationality I was. Ahmed is Kuwaiti, but his mama could be from any other country. For God only knows, a Kuwaiti woman is uneducated and only good for shopping and raza at coffee shops and restaurants. I think she came to the conclusion that I'm not Kuwaiti. I'm maybe from the North African countries (you know, Tunisian, Algerian or Moroccan. Definitely not Labanese! I'm not skinny!). I sit with Ahmed and I look around me at the other parents. Most of them didn't speak French. , and most spoke with their children in English or Arabic. I know that a handful of them don't speak French fluently, a couple or three of them don't speak French at all. Anyway after twenty minutes, Ahmed finds a group of non-crying kids and he joins them. When his back was turned, I leave the class room, and came back few hours later. His teacher tells me that he didn't want to participate in class and took a nap. Wow! First day of school and he sleeps in class!!! I see a bright future for my son! **Note: You might wonder why I've put my kids in the French school. I want them to have the same education I had. The only difference I got mine in France, richer and more diverse.