The Saga of Searching for a School in Dubai...Part 1

It is that time of year for parents in Dubai who have a 4-year old, or a child approaching age 4.  We all must endure the crazy process of looking for, and getting accepted into a good primary school.

In Dubai, there are public schools, but these are for locals.  All foreigners here have to send their children to private schools.  Typically, companies provide some kind of reimbursement, but it may not cover 100% of it.  And if you consider moving here, note that the company just covers the base and does not include any extras on top of that.

Our quest for the right school started sometime last year.  I had heard different things when moms “talk shop” so I kind of had an idea about what might be good and what might not be based on reputation – or should I say gossip.  On top of the gossip, there are many systems – American, British, International, and a myriad of others.  Luckily I do not have to consider another language.  For example, if you were from France, would you put your child in a French speaking school, or somewhere else?  Since it doesn’t seem in the cards that we will return to the US anytime soon, I need to consider a few options.

I confirmed the gossip based on government reports here as well as a few visits to the facilities.  However, it was still difficult to make the preliminary list.   So starting sometime in Spring last year, I began the task of visiting schools and completing applications and all other paper work to get my child an education.

The first school I visited last year has always had a fantastic reputation.  It is rumored to educate children in a different, unique way that was the bomb - something about using movement and physical activity to support learning.  Before the world economy crashed, you had to wait probably two years to get into this school.  I decided to visit and let it be a benchmark if it was that great. 

I scheduled a visit and took a tour of the school.  Most of the parents touring were British, or maybe a few Australians as well.  Despite the unique delivery of education, the system seems to be primarily British, or at least attracts this clientele.  They had an amazing common area with all the kids’ art, which was fantastic, but I was incredibly freaked out when we walked by the computer lab.  All these children dressed identically, sitting at computers like droids.  I guess this is what all primary school computer labs look like these days, but it still freaked me out a bit.  

Probably the highlight of the tour was when we visited the playground.  This is when the principal/director, who was giving the tour, emphasized the importance of physical play for brain development.   And I quote, “One of the best things you can do for your child is to swing them around upside down.”  Is she kidding me?  Now I am not a prude, and kids love to play, climb and swing, but did she just say that to everyone?  Yes, she did.  She did not endorse shaking babies, but I was preparing my poker face just in case.

Fortunately, I was wearing my sunglasses, so I was able to do a quick check-in with the faces in the group - nobody flinched.  I am not sure if the crowd just got bored and were perhaps not listening at the time, or they wanted their child to get in so badly that they were afraid to question it.

The tour finished and I had a quick visit with the nurse to see if she had any experience or issues with a diabetic child before.  While the education is important, at this age, health and managing diabetes is a big deal for us.  They were very accommodating, but I can say the reaction from some other schools when I request to visit the nurse’s offices has been interesting.   They usually tell me that I can meet them the week before school starts.  Most are accommodating after I explain to them the importance of doing this sooner rather than later.  However, I had one school that was a little reluctant to direct me to the nurse’s office.

This person seemed surprised, so I tried to politely explain the need to meet with a nurse sooner rather than later.   It still wasn’t quite working, as that didn’t seem to follow the typical procedure.  I had to take it a step further and make the obvious as gentle as possible:  I will select and pay for the school with my (hard earned) money.  I finally got a “we usually don’t do this, but we’ll make an exception this time”. 

While they all have selection criteria, no one has yet offered to pay for my child to attend their school.  As fabulous as he is, I just don’t think that is going to happen.  I feel it is only fair that if I am going to provide this money to them, I need to ensure that my child’s health will not be an issue at school.

In May 2011, I dropped off an application form for my son at the school where he would be swung around upside down to induce learning.  They said they would be in touch…In September of 2011, they sent me an email to schedule an assessment for my son. 

One of the most critical requirements to get into a school here is a good assessment, or interview.  All schools here assess all applicants before they accept them.  I can somewhat understand why it is done, but I also think that some schools may abuse it.  The rumor is that this is how they look for “desirable passports”.  That may be different for each school.  At least one American school here openly states that North American passport holders get priority. 

The date they gave me was the same date we were scheduled to be in the US so my son could see his pediatric endocrinologist.  I explained this and they told me they would be in touch, but I knew better.  I called the number  they left in the email in case I had any questions.  Of course there was never any answer and the number never rolled over to voice mail. 

I sent an email explaining this, and that I would like to discuss when we could reschedule.  I received the same response, “We’ll be in touch”. 

I was not too disappointed or surprised.  After all, another friend tried to get her son into this school.  There was a massive waiting list, and every time she followed up, there was no space available.  Come school time, she had never heard anything from them, so obviously, her child was enrolled in another school.  Crazily enough, they called her on the second day of school informing her a place had opened.  This was around 10 or 11:00 in the morning.  She had a window until 2:00pm to get back to them, otherwise the spot would be gone.  With her son settled happily in another school, needless to say, my friend told them “no thanks”.

Wanting a second opinion to see what all the hoopla was about, I was waiting for my husband who had not yet had a chance to visit the school.  The morning he left to go there, a car hit his car in our parking lot.  They both had to go to the police station to get a report so the other driver’s insurance could pay for the damages.  Obviously, he missed the tour that day.

When he called to reschedule, they told him they did not really have any upcoming tours, nor were they sure when the next tour would be, if at all.  I am writing this in February, this happened a couple of months ago. 

Instead of all the secrecy and pretentiousness, a simple we do not like your passport, or we did not care for your wife’s shoe choice when she took the tour would suffice.  This is a game I do not subscribe to.  Needless to say, we happily did not give them a second thought.

Sorry Whitney

Don’t get me wrong, it is very tragic that Whitney Houston is dead at such a young age, BUT……

I am not a crazy judgmental religious person that is speaking out against how we worship drug addicted, famous people, BUT……

She will be mourned by many, and having a televised funeral like the Royal Wedding is interesting, BUT……

Whitney had many adoring fans.  I am sure they feel close to her through her music and having it in their lives.  I read an article today that said fans were disappointed there were barriers near the church so they could not go in and grieve with the family.  WHAT?!.....

Maybe had that day started differently for me, I would feel differently about Whitney Houston’s death….

My son woke up that morning telling me his eyes were shining and one was still sleeping.  After discussing this with him for a few more seconds, I confirmed he was telling me he could not see out of one of his eyes.  Closing the working eye, I tested him with a magazine cover that has 2010 in huge font written across the front.  When I took only a few steps back, I asked him if he could see it.  “No”.  I know that eye issues can be a complication for diabetics, but I also know from his physicians that it is likely too early for this to start showing at age four.  Concerned was an understatement at that point.

I waited two hours for the Moorfields Eye Clinic to open in Dubai, which felt like forever, and got an appointment that morning right away.  When we arrived they showed us to a waiting area that had a television tuned in to CNN.  Of course all that was showing were clips of Whitney Houston and press standing outside her hotel.  I was surprised to hear of her death, but honestly, I did not care.  That morning I was not praying for Whitney.

My son saw three doctors and they ran all eye tests possible.  After a long morning, he was given a clean bill of health.  Everything was perfectly fine.  The doctor said it could have been the result of an infection brewing, or the result of an off, high blood sugar throughout the night.  But all tests were fine and his vision was good as well.  Relief was an understatement.  Since then he has been fine.  I am leaning toward the infection brewing theory as the cause because a few days later he had a bit of a red eye.

As we left the clinic, CNN was still on.  They were still talking about the tragedy of Whitney Houston’s death.  Yes, it is tragic, but really in the grand scheme of things in my life it is not that relevant.  I am sorry for her close friends and family.  I hope I never have to experience what they have been through and what they are going through now with her loss.  For them, I am truly sorry.  However, as far as the event’s affect on my life personally, I do not really know how to eloquently say I am not that interested.  I cannot care about it on the same scale that the media and entertainment industry wants us to.   For me, that day that started out badly turned into a great day.

Cats Are Not Pets

Someone posted on Facebook the other day she was being evicted because her neighbors complained that she had dogs.  There are people who have dogs or other pets in the UAE, however they are not always allowed in most apartments.  I find most people in the Middle East are not big pet people and it is typically us Westerners who have them.

I love my pets.  My only condition to move to Turkey many years ago was that my dog could join me.  So when we moved to Dubai for sure I was not going to leave our two cats behind.  When we finally found a place, I noticed the contract had a no pet clause. “No pets allowed”.  I was not sure how strict this would be enforced, so for sure I was worried.

When I told this to one of my husband’s colleagues who is from the region and has lived in Dubai for many years, he ensured me there was nothing to worry about.   He said I shouldn’t have even brought up the subject.  However, since I did, the next time I went to the apartment office I was to tell the person working in the office “cats are not pets”.  What? 

As crazy as it sounds, when I went to sign the contract and the guy asked me about them, I thought about it for half a second and did as instructed.  “Well you know they are cats, and cats are not really pets”.   I couldn’t even believe those words came out of my mouth.  The guy paused for a second, looked at me, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Okay. Sign here."  What?

Needless to say I was in shock and had to control myself from laughing hysterically.  That was just about the craziest thing I have ever told someone and they so easily obliged.

In retrospect, it really was no big deal.  There are a few people in our complex who have dogs.  There are many signs that go up in the elevators about how this is against policy.  The dogs are still here.  Perhaps someone complains, but it is not enforced.  The dogs are on leashes so it is fine.

I tested this logic again here several years later.  I went to pick my husband up from work one day.  There is a small pick up area where I waited.  It was taking a few minutes, so I continued to wait.  I could see the security guard getting uncomfortable.  He came over to tell me I was in a no parking area.  I simply told him, “I am not parking”.  Like the guy who worked in my apartment office, he said “Okay” and walked off.

I feel like I have discovered some sort of super power.

A Visit with the Turkish President

Last week the Turkish President, Abdullah Gul, was in Dubai.  He had a series of meetings in the UAE. According to the press it was to build closer economic and investment relations.  Some of the Turkish community was invited to attend a cocktail with him.  I was in a great debate of "to go or not to go".  I had so much work to do, but once in a lifetime go to a cocktail with a president.  In the end, I went.

I wish I had more to say about it, but it was rather uneventful.  We all waited for about an hour before we were allowed in the room where he would speak.  He arrived, he gave a pleasant speech.  He did not really discuss anything diplomatic, or give a president-like speech where he might mention the intent of the cooperation between the two nations.  It was quite casual.  I have heard he is quite personable, and his speech seemed to indicate that.

Afterwards he went around the room and shook hands with everyone.  Everyone equates to those who were determined enough to push through the crowd to do so.  I did not shake his hand, but did not leave until he left as I felt that would seem disrespectful.  I figure he must be tired and has shaken who knows how many hands that day.  To run any country must be an exhausting job.  One less hand to shake, one more second to unwind.

He made his way around the room and left.  I felt most privileged because security allowed me to bring my mobile phone in, while everyone else had to follow the rule to keep all phones with cameras in the car.  It is challenging to find a phone without a camera these days, but in the end the need to be in touch with a child at home ruled out and I was in with my phone.  To be in a room with that many people without a mobile phone in this day and age - that was amazing.

Dubai Marathon - Desperately Seeking Spectators

This time last week the Dubai marathon was on.  It is still a fairly new race, but attracts a lot of world-class runners because it is a flat course so they can more easily qualify for the Olympics and break records.  The course starts and finishes at the Burj Khalifa, which means the course runs right by my complex after the start and it is just 3 kilometers away from the finish on the return.

My son and I started watching the runners on television as we had our breakfast.  They still seemed far away in Jumeriah but then suddenly they were at the Trade Center, just up the street.  It is amazing how quickly a professional marathoner will approach. 

We quickly put our socks and shoes on and ran out the door.  The poor kid didn’t even get to brush his teeth.  And he really wanted to.  He was worried about his teeth falling out!  It wasn’t my best parenting moment as we chose world-class running over hygiene, but we would be back soon.  Of course he asked very sweetly to return a few times,  “Um, Mom, you know.  I just really want to brush my teeth”.   We had just missed the leading men by a few seconds, but still got to see several other amazing runners and the women finishers.  I love the effortlessness they have.  Their stride is amazing. 

Dubai 2012 Marathon Women front runners

There weren’t many spectators so we clapped and cheered as everyone came in.   We really needed to get back to brush our teeth, so I took him back home and then returned to continue to watch the rest of the runners.  I had so much to do that day, but could not leave them.  There was no one cheering or supporting them that I could see except for a few runners that had already finished and cheered as they walked back to their cars.

Most marathons outside the US are typically very lonely.  They are incredibly difficult in my opinion because of the lack of crowd support.  Yes, it is only you, the runner, that can carry yourself over that finish line, but there is a lot to be said for the people you meet along the way.  Every little bit of motivation helps – especially when you are in pain or have hit your wall.   Some of the US marathons are an amazing street party.

As I watched the back of the packers start to arrive, I was having flashbacks of my first marathon experience years ago.  Because I have lived through that pain and loneliness on a marathon course, I just could not bring myself to leave them. 

My first marathon was in Houston in 1996.  I didn’t set out to do it, but as I ran with my running club, the distances became longer and I was addicted by then so kept going.  I was well prepared. 

Come race day, it was freezing.  Not just literally but figuratively.  These were the early days of dry-wick and other fancy fabrics that keep athletes warm.  And in Houston where it is almost never gets very cold, residents did not really own such novelties.  I saw one runner that had some warm gear – I recall they had just moved from Colorado.   I also recall that all runners within any kind of radius were in envy.  That runner looked like a sheep among a pack of wolves.  The rest of us had all showed up wearing garbage bags to stay dry.

After about the 3-mile mark, I looked over at my friend – icicles had formed on her collar.  Yes the wet, temperature and combination of wind had created icicles!  After the race I learned it was so cold that there were many runners suffering from hypothermia.  The race medical team pulled several runners to check them.  One runner was so hypothermic when asked his name he could not remember.

I am not sure why, but it did stand out!

As we kept moving the cold was forgotten, sort of.  Just as I passed the halfway mark, something unexpected happened.  It was like I had suddenly injured my ITB. (This is a common muscle that gets injured in runners, the Iliotbial Band that runs from your hip to the outside of your knee).  I tried to keep running, but could not.  I slowed to a horrific trot-walk and kept going.   As I kept going, it kept getting worse, so I started to walk with the hopes I would be able to run after a brief walk.  That unfortunately did not happen. 

Later, the barriers were collected and the roads opened to traffic.  Around mile-18 or so I needed a bathroom break.  There were none left on the course so I walked into a restaurant.  It was pretty empty except for one family that looked like they were having lunch after church.  I wish I had a camera because the horrified look on their face when they saw me was priceless.  Crazy-garbage-bag-wearing-girl was probably an understatement of what they thought.  I half expected them to shelter their children from me.

I was so glad to see Memorial Park when I finally got there.  This is about mile 20 (30km or so).  There was no one.  The park where all runners in Houston congregate had never looked so empty.  The van picking up injured runners came back for the last time to ask if I wanted to get in.  They had asked a few times, but that was the last time they would ask.  I said no.  They asked, “Are you sure”.  Of course I wasn’t, but I did not get in.

I think it was shortly after that I started to get a little crazy.  I was wet, cold and alone. I just wanted it to be over.  But yet, I did not want to quit.  I knew I would never forgive myself. I cannot recall if I had this conversation with myself out loud or in my head.  I had a turning point after that.  When I thought of quitting and what I would loose, I realized that more than anything, I wanted THE bumper sticker. 

In Houston, it is not uncommon for finishers to put the finishers bumper sticker on their cars.  I had always noticed these and was so impressed with those who had one.  I wanted one and needed to earn it.  I picked up my walking pace a bit.  I don’t know if it was delirium or cheeriness, but shortly after I started to sing Christmas carols to myself.  As I read that sentence back, I am sure it was out of delirium.  It only seemed fitting since it was freezing outside.  I think I sang Let it Snow. 

On the way there was one lady who was driving up and down Memorial Drive in her big black Mercedes with the window down cheering one walker I saw ahead of me.  That was nuts, I thought.  But who was I to judge the definition of that word at that point in time… or anytime thereafter.

When I got to the corner of Memorial and Shepard, there were two guys standing there with a thermos of hot chocolate.  They asked if I wanted some.  They were so sweet.  I did not take any.  In training they teach you not to try anything new on race day as it could have a bad result - as if I wasn’t having one already.

The highlight of this time was when I was walking along the Buffalo Bayou.  There was what I assume was a homeless man who I passed while walking.  As I walked next to him, he looked at me like I was nuts.  I was not sure what to say, so I said Hello.  He looked at me suspiciously and moved his bottle of Jack Daniels to his other hand that was further away from me.

When I finally made it into downtown I knew that I would finish.  I was in pain, but yet too cold to feel anything.  Much to my surprise there were still two people at the finish line handing out certificates and medals.  I was in shock that I made it.  My final time was 7:15 – yes, that is 7 hours and 15 minutes.  

There was no one to celebrate my insanity and surrealism.   I didn’t stay too long as I just wanted to get to my car and get warm.   I called my roommate and my parents to let them know I was still alive and on my way home.  As I drove home, I was so grateful for those few crazy people who stayed to support the few of us that were left.

Years later as I watch these runners in Dubai, I wonder if they have experienced the same insanity and loneliness.   While maybe not exactly the same, everyone goes through a tremendous transformation during that 40 kilometers.  I was so proud of all of them.  I didn’t know any of them – only one of my son’s teachers who I did not know was running.   There was only 3 kilometers left, I was sure at that point they would all finish.

The guy in the rhino suit

Shortly after the man in the rhino costume passed and it was nearing noon, I pulled myself away from the course.  I had only that day to prepare for son’s birthday party.  There were still a few runners coming, but I knew they would make it as they were so close.

As my son and I left to go pick up supplies for his birthday party, at the intersection where I sat earlier, I saw someone who was still running.  It was almost 1:30pm.  He was not even walking well, but still going.  I empathized with his pain, but was so proud that he kept going. 

What shocked me more were the two guys who were part of the race staff standing at the road markers.  After the future finisher asked them for directions to the finish line, they shook their heads and looked at each other like he was crazy as they smoked their cigarettes.  At that moment I wanted to jump out of my car in a road-rage like fashion and pull them by their ears to the finish line to request better support for next year.

It is not important that others understand why someone runs a marathon.  There are many motivations – often it is a charity, to raise awareness of something, in remembrance of someone, to celebrate a milestone or simply because you want to test yourself like you have never been tested before.  The reason is always personal, and it does not matter.  It is your reason. 

T. S. Elliot once said, “Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go”.   Be sure that guy I saw at the traffic light asking for directions to the finish line has gone further in one day than most people will go in a lifetime.  And he did it gracefully while two men blew smoke in his face and laughed.