Since DS and I began our YMCA classes again after the summer break, quite a few of the mums I’ve become friendly with have been asking where DS will go to Nursery School next September and whether I’ve got him registered at the school of our choice. What do you mean, registered for school? He’s not even three yet! Turns out, the Mummy-Mafia (as I like to fondly refer to them as) all have their children registered for Nursery School from a very young age. A bit like the old days, when boys born into the landed gentry were put down for Eton or Harrow at birth, I suppose! Anyway, it seems that I have been behind the curve when it comes to knowledge about getting your child into your preferred school (and probably a whole load of other stuff people assume I automatically know about? I’ve never had a child before, so how am I supposed to know this stuff? Presumably, I’m to absorb it, osmosis-like, without noticing!)
So, dutiful mummy that I am, I call in at the local Primary School, which has a 60 place Nursery unit, this morning. The receptionist is very helpful and explains how the system works, but laughs like a drain when I ask her how I’m supposed to know this. However, it seems that luck is in my favour. Last September, I’d called in at the school to make general enquires as to how the system worked. Then, an unhelpful receptionist had given me a very basic form to fill in and that was that … or so I thought. That basic form, which I filled in on 4 September last year, has secured DS a place on the list for entry to Nursery in 2010. Where abouts on the list? Number 50 (remembering that the Nursery unit only has 60 places, 30 in the mornings and 30 in the afternoons)!! I was speechless! How on earth could I be the 50th parent, in September 2008, requesting a Nursery place for September 2010? It’s madness. We now have to wait until around March next year so see if he will be offered a place. I’ve come to the conclusion that parenting a child preparing to start school is a whole new education in its own right.