Tag Archives: Ross at WS

Getting Ready for Woodstock School – Some Practicalities

So my daughter will be going to Woodstock School. Given my obvious enthusiasm for the place, you may assume that I’m ecstatically happy about this – and I am. But there is also plenty of room for doubts and worries and sorrow. What do I do with feelings like these? What I always do: write about it! <wry grin>

First, there’s the practical side: we have a lot to do to get ready. So, for the benefit of other current and future Woodstock parents, I figured I might as well write about that.

Health

Every seasoned traveller knows that before travelling to (what used to be called) third-world countries, you need to get shots. Ross and I went through this two years ago in preparation for our trip to India in the summer of 2005. The travellers’ health clinic of our local health agency in Lecco was able to advise on and administer everything we needed. Ross made an appointment to check what was needed this time around. Since she’s still a minor, I had to go with her.

Turns out we had forgotten to get her Hepatitis A booster that was due 6-12 months after the first one – the nurse scolded us, but didn’t seem to think it was really a big deal. She gave us a lecture (again) on when Ross should take malaria prophylaxis, and that was that – at a cost of 45 euros.

Enrico is concerned about health care for Ross at Woodstock – not that she has any special needs, he’s just worried about health in India in general (although, during our trip in 2005, it was me who got sick, not Ross).

There wasn’t much information on the school or SAGE website about this (an oversight now being remedied), but I know that the school has its own health center with nurses and a doctor, and that Landour Community Hospital (LCH), where many Woodstockers were and still are born, is just outside the school gates. I also know that India can boast world-class healthcare these days, at least in the big cities – indeed, “health tourism” is becoming a booming business.

As it turns out, LCH is getting a facelift (maybe much more – I don’t have details yet), thanks to my classmate Sanjay (who has also revamped the school’s kitchens – an area of natural interest for him as he’s in the restaurant business). So the quality of care available right on Woodstock’s doorstep is improving.

There is also some sort of catastrophic health insurance available through SAGE I think, we’re waiting to hear about that from them. I’m not sure it provides for a medical evacuation to the home country, but someone mentioned that it would pay a ticket for a parent to come in case of serious hospitalization. I’ll report the details when I have them.

The SAGE package we received recently includes a medical history and a form to be filled out by our family doctor with data from a physical exam, plus Ross will have to get blood, urine, and stool tests. This all makes sense – the school needs to know up front that these kids don’t have health problems when they arrive. But it’s going to be a mad scramble to get it all quickly – SAGE wants these forms back by June 1st.

Normally such tests might be free or subsidized in the Italian health care system, but waiting times can be so long for non-emergency testing that I’ll probably have to pay to have the lab work done privately. At least the exam by the family doctor shouldn’t cost.

What to Bring?

It may seem ironic for a school in India, but my greatest concern in this category is warm clothing. Woodstock is 7000 feet up in the “foothills” of the Himalayas, where it’s plenty cold and snowy in winter, and most of the buildings are far too old to have anything like central heating.

For this reason, the school year traditionally ran from late July to late June, with the long vacation from early December to mid February. It could still be bitterly cold even in late February – I remember one year when music practices were suspended because our fingers were too stiff to play.

Lucky Ross: the school calendar is changing this year, with classes starting August 8th, vacation December 14-Jan 22, and graduation May 30th. The idea is to align Woodstock with US schools and colleges, in part to have more time to prepare for AP exams in the spring. So the students will be in Mussoorie for much of the winter – brr!

Ross initially pooh-poohed my suggestion of long underwear (SO unfashionable). I have tried to explain to her that you’ve never known real cold until you’ve had chilblains. I’m buying her the long underwear anyway – and she’s more convinced now that she’s seen it on the packing list we just received from SAGE. At least she recognizes the depth of motherly love demonstrated by my offer to give her my very warmest ski socks (I have a fetish for socks, and my feet are always cold).

Ross has also been put in touch with a current SAGE student whose advice she can ask on what else is and isn’t needed.

One major purchase will be a laptop; though the school has computers for student use, Ross is accustomed to having her own: at home she uses my “old” desktop, and she can’t imagine life without it close at hand to organize and PhotoShop her photos.

Student Visa

I dread facing the Indian consulate in Milan again, it’s always chaos. We will have to go there to get Ross a student visa for India, but we can’t do it until after June 1st (at the earliest), because the visa is good for exactly one year. Getting the visa should be straightforward – the school is sending a “bona fide student” letter vouching for her status. But I’m always afraid that something will go wrong with this, so I won’t really rest easy until she’s got that damned visa in her passport.

It’s amusing to compare and contrast all this with my own thirty-year-old memories of preparing for Woodstock.

Your thoughts?

Pilgrimage

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Indian man on a pilgrimage [title of the photo, which Ross took during our trip to India in 2005]

Pilgrimage: a voyage of devotion and penitence towards the sacred places of every religion.

Sitting for hours in front of the computer.

I’m waiting for a great idea for some logical thread or thesis to follow, to write an excellent admissions essay, to arrive from this sad, gray sky.

For months I have decided to hide, at least from the fotolog community, my intention, if circumstances permit, to do a school year out of the country, and I have never explained my reasons for “wanting to participate in this program and attend an international, multicultural and multireligions school in India” – which I need to [explain] by tomorrow and, of course, I have waited right up to the deadline to do it.

So, why go?

Why leave a decidedly comfortable life which gives me, with little or no effort on my part, everything I need and many things I could just as well do without, but still leaves me unsatisfied, with a constant sensation of incompleteness?

Why say goodbye – for a not-short time – to the friends I depend upon, the lifestyle I’m used to, my habits, vices, tastes, caprices, constructive pains, infinite gossip, hysterical laughter, frustrated crying, and the long list of unconnected things that come to mind when I think about HOW I LIVE.

The harder list to make, however, is the things I will have to get used to if I go, and the list of what I hope and expect to gain:

I wouldn’t have the same freedom, but – freedom to do what, anyway?

I would have to learn to be independent in a very different way from how I am now. This would no longer mean coming home when I feel like it Saturday night, feeling adult because I got drunk and went to the disco.

I would have to live with habits and customs completely different from those of Lecco, substituting rice for pasta, H&M with the local tailor, and things like that.

It will no longer be an option to leave all my clothes on the floor until they form a mountain that takes on a life of its own and becomes an independent being (seriously, my clothes will soon open their own fotolog: fotolog.com/wevebeenonthefloorforayear).

[Many other things] will no longer be an option (alcohol, smoking, immoral sex – what “immoral” means I don’t yet know!)

But I still haven’t given my reasons [for wanting to go]:

I’ve already visited India. Thinking about it brings back those sensations that I feel when I watch a documentary or hear ethnic music in the waiting room at the beauty shop: the strumming of the sitar carries me back to the heat, the spicy odor in the air, the brown faces with huge black eyes that I’d like to photograph, one by one, I’m so moved by their beauty. It carries me back to lime water, to the streets full of cars from several epochs ago, side by side with rickshaws magically pedalled by very skinny legs. To how I wanted to cry the first times that the children, seeing white people, surrounded them like ants on a crumb.

It’s difficult if not impossible to explain in words this desire to run away, because in the end it would mean running away in the hopes of finding a better life when I return. It may be that I have it in my blood. I’m resigned to the fact that, even if I had never spoken of India with my mother, the desire to go would have started pulsing in my veins sooner or later.

Writing this essay is like waiting for a flight to board, when with a thousand books and magazines I try to calm myself and hide the fact that I’m jumping out of my skin with curiosity and excitement to go to a land other than my own, and explore it in all its aspects. I am excited about the world because it’s international, multicultural, and multireligious.

Why not take a risk – risk not having everything, not living comfortably, risk seeing sad, ugly things and then crying from the joy of having been so fortunate as to feel an emotion so strong?

Why not say goodbye to the people who love me, knowing that, if they really do love me, distance and time will be irrelevant; to search for different people, perhaps more like myself, who will understand exactly what I’ve gone through, once everything is done and I return home with one more huge suitcase / new “baggage”.