From conformist to contortionist

Didier took the day off and we went to the Open Day at St. Gabriel's School, the new school Lily will attend in September.  Another thing we learned quite by accident, without any help from the Human Resources Department at Didier's company, is that many children start school at 4 years old here.  The good schools are competitive and many people apply as their children approach one or two years of age to ensure a position with the desired class.  We had no idea about this and tried our luck at a few schools that were recommended by ex-pats and parents of Lily's preschool classmates.  St. Gabriel's was our first choice because, frankly, it wasn't as white as the other ex-pat schools.  Our kids are mixed and while we haven't had that conversation yet, I didn't want Lily to find herself the only one or one of two or three in a classroom and have to "represent" her group rather than just getting to be her own sweet, inquisitive, intelligent self.

The school is lovely and we are excited and nervous about the possibilities.  I am a little troubled about the uniforms, something all school kids wear here, an influence of the British in the Caribbean.  Lily is already such a fantastic conformist.  She does so because she wants to be liked.  I know this because she reminds me so much of myself when I was a young girl.  I didn't have a uniform, but I knew the signs that meant I had gained approval and those that said my way of thinking or acting was not appropriate for the general population.  Later in life, I was able to break free of the mold, but inside, I did still care that I didn't fit the mold, even if it was my choice to break it. 

I have twisted myself, bent over backwards to be something that I was not at so many stages in my life.  It has been so painful trying to please.  I don't want that for Lily and I hope she can see her little blue jumper as just a dress and not a mold.  Living outside of America, I can see what we look like to others and with self-depreciating humor, can smile at our boisterous laughs, tell-it-like-it-is conversation, and even selfish desire for things that remind us of home.  But I also appreciate individualism.  Dreamers.  Explorers.  Adventurers.  And I hope that Lily and Virginie can find their way to dream bigger than this. 

In Barbados, Lily thinks that boys play football and girls are pretty.  Girls wear skirts and speak softly.  She says things like, "That is so lovely" and "I want to wear a dress like a beautiful princess."  Things that wouldn't make another mother blink.  But my little girl, before we left New York, wore pants with dresses, wanted to be an astronaut, and wouldn't let a comb or brush anywhere near her head.  I know it can be lonely when you don't quite fit even when you have all the right moves and I want to be there with her when she discovers her own voice and her own words and says them outloud, even if no one else agrees with them.


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