Nowhere to hide

"My, oh my, you sure know how to arrange things.
You set it up so well, so carefully.
Ain't it funny how your new life didn't change things.
You're still the same old girl you used to be."

-- Lyin' Eyes, The Eagles




Zoe brought home a note last week about enrollment for next year. I pondered it for a few days... it meant disclosing my new address, or sticking with my old one. Showing I moved to a new school district, or pretending I was still in the one she was attending.

Telling the truth, or lying.

I held my breath and did the right thing.

I got a letter in Zoe's bookbag Friday, followed up by the same note in the regular mail that was sent to the old address and forwarded, as well as a certified letter to the new address, which I assume was designed to see if I was residing here so they could promptly boot my child from her school.

That's pretty much what the letter said: Come withdraw her. I imagined a bunch of rent-a-cops posted at the front door of Zoe's school with mug shot of her because "that mother of hers keeps sending her even though we've sent a dozen cease-and-desist letters, your honor."

In one fell swoop, trimming and polishing my toenails this weekend lost all its importance.

I thought about it all weekend, mostly how I would appeal to as many administrators as possible with the saddest story possible... get a waiver or offer to pay tuition or WHATEVER, whatever I could do to minimize this disruption in Zoe's life, and all of a sudden I concocted the perfect story: We haven't yet put our old home on the market, so we were still paying taxes to her school district. But we ANTICIPATED living in another school district, that's why I filled out that enrollment form as such.

This seemed to work. I got a note back from the registrar wishing us the best of luck next year, but to come withdraw her anyway so her records could be forwarded. Which is probably all they intended to do all along: Let her finish out the school year.

And it is driving me nuts that ... I am lying. On behalf of my kid. What a role model I've become. Why don't I just start smoking crack and get it over with?


To top it off, I asked Zoe -- in anticipation that it might happen -- how she would feel about starting a new school with only a few weeks left.

"YEAH!"

But, it would mean all new friends, new teachers. YOU'D BE THE NEW GIRL.

"YEAH!"



Perhaps it would have helped my conscience -- and my work schedule and sleep cycle -- if I had had this conversation with her earlier.