Tag Archives: Woodstock School

Why Send My Child to Woodstock School?

Someone who has never attended Woodstock School may legitimately wonder why anyone would wish to send their child there.

I went to Woodstock in 1977 because I had no better educational choice (except to continue with correspondence school in Bangladesh, where my parents were living and working – a year of which had already been more than enough). “No other choice” was the case for many Woodstock students in those days, when jobs in development, missions, or international business were more likely to send Westerners overseas, and there were fewer international schools in odd places around the world for their kids to attend.

Woodstock nowadays is one of Asia’s elite schools, preparing students for still-much-desired admission to universities in the US and UK (as well as Asia’s own top universities). But it’s not so obvious why any student should come from outside of Asia. And there are plenty of reasons not to. Let’s look at some of those first.

(Some of) The Reasons Against

It’s Boarding School

Woodstock is a boarding school, a concept foreign to American and most European culture: if you love your child, how can you bear to send him/her away? In Italy, boarding school is widely considered something that parents do with children whom they cannot control at home, and/or it’s thought to show a lack of proper parental feeling. (Although we have several Italian friends who went to boarding schools in Italy and elsewhere and loved it: the negative attitude seems to come from Italians who have no actual experience of boarding.)

It’s in India!

Secondly, Woodstock is in India, specifically in the small town of Mussoorie, 7000 feet up in the foothills of the Himalayas. A location which, much as I love it, is what the foreign service used to call a “hardship post”. It’s cold and wet during the monsoon, cold and sometimes snowy during the winter (though fall and spring are gorgeous and not too hot).

School facilities and infrastructure are enormously, unrecognizably improved since I attended 25 years ago, but most of the buildings are still old and unheated, many cannot be reached except on foot, and the overall level of comfort is well below what we in “the West” are accustomed to.

Physical discomforts are bearable, perhaps even character-building, but there are worse potential dangers. Health is a concern: it’s a lot easier to get catastrophically sick in India, and a near-certainty that at least some “Delhi belly” will befall any traveller there (although, during our 2005 trip to India, I got sick and Ross did not. My own fault – I should not have had that lassi in Jaipur…)

On the other hand, India has very good health care these days – so good that people are travelling from the US, Canada, and UK to have non-urgent surgery and other treatment far more cheaply in Indian hospitals than they could at home (“medical tourism” they call it, and it’s a booming business).

…and there are plenty more aspects of India that the average Western parent inexperienced with Asia will find frightening, bizarre, and incomprehensible. But let’s not dwell on them for the moment.

The Reasons For

It’s a Nurturing Environment

At a Woodstock reunion long ago I talked with an older alumnus whose own children were then college age.

“How come your kids never went to Woodstock?” I asked him.

He explained that his daughter had done very well at home in Canada, was well-adjusted, made good grades, had lots of friends, etc. He had never even considered sending her to Woodstock, because there was no reason to take her out of her happy situation.

His son, on the other hand, had had both social and academic problems at school, and didn’t seem to be going anywhere with his life after high school. The alumnus thought his son might well have benefited from Woodstock, as a total change of scene if nothing else, but his wife would not hear of it: the idea of sending her son off to school in India was just too strange and scary. The alum regretted that they hadn’t tried it.

I’ve spoken with many alumni who feel that they benefitted enormously from Woodstock, even if they were there only a year or a semester. One of my own classmates came for her senior year, having done all the rest of her schooling in a standard US high school, where she was considered something of a weirdo. She credits Woodstock with making her feel that she was fine just the way she was, giving a huge boost to her self-confidence. (Years later, my own daughter said the same.)

For me, Woodstock had a tremendously positive impact on my life, as I have written before: “The four years I spent there nurtured me, gave me self-confidence, and helped to heal the wounds of my parents’ divorce and other upheavals. Years later, my therapist told me that if I hadn’t gone to Woodstock, I would probably have ended up ‘gibbering in a corner somewhere.'”

Do you have to be among the walking (psychologically) wounded for Woodstock to do you good? Of course not. Plenty of healthy, well-adjusted kids have gone there and enjoyed it. The Woodstock environment is nourishing and nurturing for just about everyone. How and why it is this way is a topic for a much longer article!

It’s in India!

At a reunion in London in 2003, I met the parents of a German boy who had just gone to Woodstock for his junior year abroad. The parents had travelled to London to meet alumni because they knew very little about the school or the people it produced. How on earth did their son end up there?

He had been doing well in school in Germany, but was not satisfied with the level of English he was learning. (I assume that his father, an international businessman, had drilled into him how important it is in today’s global world to speak good English.) So the boy wanted to go to a school where he could study in English, but exchange programs in the US or Canada did not appeal to him (possibly for the same reason – no choice of the actual school – that similar exchange programs from Italy did not appeal to Rossella).

His father, whose business took him frequently to China, suggested that he look for a school in Asia: “Asia is the future,” he told his son.

The boy did a search online, and came up with Woodstock. His father stopped by for half a day on one of his China trips, approved of what he saw, and off the boy went. I believe he stayed there a second year as well, and graduated with his class.

Unusual? Certainly. Weird? Maybe. But the father had a point. The Economist recently stated that “India may overtake Germany as the world’s fifth-biggest consumer market by 2025.” The future, indeed.

Indian culture is already felt throughout the world. In a recent episode of the American TV show Heroes, the Indian character used the word goondas without explaining it, clearly expecting both the character he was speaking to and the audience to understand it (the meaning was clear enough from the context: goondas are thugs – and thug is also originally an Indian word). Anyone who wishes to be successful in an increasingly globalized and Indianized world will certainly benefit from knowing India well! (China, too, but I don’t know of any Woodstock-like schools there. Maybe Woodstock should offer courses in Chinese language and culture.)

Enduring Friendships

Many alumni and former staff gathered in Mussoorie to celebrate Woodstock’s 150th anniversary in 2004, some bringing family. My classmate Deepu’s daughter said to her afterwards: “I see you with all your old friends and hear the great stories you tell. When I’m old, I want to have stories like that, too.” She has now been at Woodstock for several years herself, and presumably has her own friends, and stories to tell with them.

more reasons to send your child to Woodstock

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?

Ross Got Into Woodstock School

A week or so ago I ran across this on the blog of one of my new colleagues at Sun:

To A Daughter Leaving Home

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

Linda Pastan

…in other words: Ross will be attending Woodstock School in India next year.

I’m so happy I’m in shock. And, at the same time… I will miss her to the marrow of my bones. Wish us all luck.

A School Year Abroad

In my encounters with fellow alumni of Woodstock School, many naturally ask me if and when my own daughter will attend. The answer is: with a great deal of luck, she will start in August, 2007, for an exchange year which will be her fourth/senior year at Woodstock, but only her penultimate year of Italian high school.

The application process has not been easy. Not surprisingly, the application forms and process for SAGE (Studies Abroad in Global Education, the US-based outfit that runs Woodstock’s exchange program) are slanted towards US students. There are differences between Italian and US school systems and cultures that could cause an Italian applicant to look “weak”.

American private schools and universities are fond of “well-rounded” applicants, expecting students to be doing sports, public service, paid work, arts, etc., in addition to lots of schoolwork (apparently, no one is allowed time to just be a kid anymore).

Almost none of this is likely or even possible for Italian kids.

Italian Students Are Not “Well-Rounded” – Here’s Why

There are no extra-curricular activities in Italian public schools (I assume for lack of funding). The only sport is PE. There is no music, no school newspaper or yearbook, rarely drama, no clubs. There is student government (mandated by law), but only two class representatives (plus two for the whole school) are elected per year, and they don’t do much. There are occasional special events that students can volunteer to participate in (Ross is usually the photographer). Ross’ current private school does try to get their kids to do volunteer work, in a very limited way (Ross tutors a younger girl in English).

Some kids do after-school sports or dance, a few competing very seriously, but participation at that level is expensive and takes a lot of time. Otherwise, Italian kids don’t have opportunities for awards or recognition. Volunteerism exists in Italy only on a small scale, and few kids are encouraged to participate. Almost none but the truly needy work after school or during summers – it was unusual that Ross did an internship last summer, at the company where I worked.

Italian kids simply don’t have time or opportunity to do much of anything outside of school and homework. One effect of this is that kids who are not good at academics may never get a chance to shine at anything, nor to realize that they may have non-academic skills that are useful and valued in society. This can’t be good for their self-esteem. No wonder so many seem to be drifting and unmotivated.

The SAGE application asks about a “guidance counselor,” a role which doesn’t exist in the Italian system. No guidance is offered about university entrance or careers – kids figure these things out together with their parents, which may be part of the reason that many university students seem profoundly uninterested in the degrees for which they are studying.

Some high schools used to have part-time psychological counsellors available, but those positions have disappeared from public schools with recent cuts in education funding.

There is no tracking in Italian schools, no honors levels or anything of that sort: everyone does exactly the same classes as their classmates, sink or swim. If you fail three or more subjects in a year, you repeat the year, and the failure rates are astonishing. In Ross’ first year of high school, six or seven of the 25 kids in her class failed. The same thing happened again in her second year (which was when Ross herself failed). I’m not crazy about the American practice of “social promotion,” either, but there’s got to be a happy medium somewhere!

Italian grading is a mystery to me. In high school, students are graded on a scale of 1-10, with 6 being a pass, but grades above 7 don’t seem to be assigned at all routinely. Given that, and the high rate at which students fail classes and entire grade levels, I was amazed to learn last year that 97% of students pass the maturità (school leaving exam) on their first try, with some high proportion getting very good marks. Perhaps the teachers grade harshly throughout high school to keep them humble. In discussion about this on the Expats in Italy forum, one Italian participant opined that some high school teachers grade punitively to enhance their own sense of power. (Hey, she said it, not me!)

The SAGE application further asks: “Smoking, use of alcoholic beverages and drug abuse are unacceptable at SAGE schools. Does the applicant have a history of using any of these?”

My answer: “In Italy, it was until a few months ago perfectly legal for 16-year-olds to buy and consume alcohol. A new law says 18 [I’m not even sure this passed], but it’s doubtful that this will survive as law, let alone be applied in real life. Most Italian kids drink wine at home with their families from age 12 or even younger – this is a cultural norm. Smoking is legal from age 16, and many kids (unfortunately) smoke. Light drugs such as marijuana are treated lightly by the law. (Ross drinks, but she knows the rules, and will abide by them at Woodstock.)”

Anticipating a Difficult Re-Entry

A huge question mark over this whole exchange idea is what happens when the student returns. The Italian government encourages students to go on exchange programs during both high school and university, and increasing numbers are doing so, usually to English-speaking countries so that they can become fluent in English. But their re-entry into the Italian system is difficult.

The classes they take as high school seniors in average American public schools are far behind the levels at which their Italian peers study in the fourth year. Unless they had excellent grades when they left (which is difficult – see above), upon return to Italy most face the unappetizing prospect of studying (alone) all summer to make up the deficit, then trying to pass comprehensive exams before the new school year starts in fall, so that they can rejoin their peers in the fifth year. If they choose not to do this, or fail too many of the tests, they must repeat the fourth year.

Some of this process would be easier if we had signed Ross up to one of the several established exchange programs in Italy, but these give you no control over where you end up and for Ross, who doesn’t need to learn English, going to some random school in the US is not particularly appetizing. For the sake of future Italian students who may wish to attend Woodstock (which likes to be as international as possible), I may eventually talk to some of these agencies and see what the prospects are for working together, but they would not move in time to help Ross for next year (one I wrote to months ago never responded to my email).

So we’re doing this on our own. Because Woodstock has much higher standards than most American public schools, I am hoping that Ross will be able to avoid some re-entry hassles if we carefully match what she studies there (e.g., in math, physics, and science) with what she’ll be missing here. Some subjects, such as Dante, she will certainly have to do on her own.

Assuming that she’s even accepted to Woodstock in the first place. With Ross’ long history of being a misfit in the Italian school system, her grades are disastrous. But the prospect of going to Woodstock seems to be a powerful motivator: now, when it’s almost too late, she is throwing herself into her studies, and starting to see results. It’s not easy for her, and probably never will be, but she’s trying hard. Let’s hope it achieves the results she desires.

what Ross wrote about it

Further Addendum from D

Mar 4, 2007

In the flurry of gathering papers and filling in forms, I forgot to mention perhaps the most important result I’d like to see for Ross if she attends Woodstock: friendships. Not that she lacks for friends here, but there’s something qualitatively different about the friendships one makes in a situation like Woodstock. My classmates, staff, and other friends from Woodstock are my family: the people I can rely on to understand me deeply and be there for me, as I am for them.

And this doesn’t just apply to the people who happened to be there when I was there. With the shared bond of this very unique (okay, weird!) experience, superficial differences like nationality or religious belief simply fall away. I can meet any Woodstocker, anywhere in the world, and, no matter whether I’ve met them before or they’re twenty (or more!) years older or younger than me, I know that, at the very least, I can look forward to a good conversation.

Addendum: Rossella was accepted into Woodstock School. Now we have a lot to do.

Pilgrimage

original

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”.