To french school or not to french school?

I am covered in an all-over body rash and it’s called Schooliosis. It’s caused by a looming September, an almost-five-year-old just outside the primary cutoff, a commute dilemma and recurring French Teacher nightmares.

Let me start at the beginning.

Je suis SUCK at le francais. Just as bad as the sucking prompted by mathematics, science and music theory. If you can calculate a good tip and converse in Paris, I envy you. I get that it broadens horizons to be, like, clever and worldly and stuff. I am simply missing whatever chunk of brain commands language acquisition (and cello-playing, and pig fetus dissection, and long division).

For that reason, sending my kids to french school has never been a priority, as it is for my french-schooled husband—as I always used to say, before the decision was imminent: it’s not enough of a priority to justify an hour-long bus ride every day.

But here we are, the summer before he qualifies for free pre-kindergarten, and I’m ALL ITCHY.

It’s only the french school that offers the pre-k program—and Evan turns five years old about ten days after the cutoff to begin school this year. Point: french school. However, l’ecole is far away, relatively speaking—and will be further still when the new building opens for 2010. The pre-k kids don’t take the schoolbus on account of their littleness, which leaves me in charge of driving Evan every day for the first year to the tune of almost two hours behind the wheel. And for the second year and beyond? He’d have his own hour-long commute each way. Point: status quo.

The status quo? Pay to keep Evan in daycare (three days a week) for one more year until he can go to the elementary school in the village, five minutes away, where he will become a cranky, unilingual anglophone and francophobe like his mother. Le sigh.

If you’re still with me, please share—how did you make the decision when and where to send your kids to school? Do you believe in the power of poutine to either a) fuel your child’s future career with the federal government or b) expand his teenaged horizons to include picking up chicks in Montreal? Does your child get to school by way of a big yellow bus? Do anglo mothers of frenchies-in-training get cut out of all-things-school by the time the child gets past chien and chat?

While you’re at it, what cream did you use to calm the rash of indecision? This whole design-your-child’s-future thing is freaking me out.

photo by sweetsalty kate

This is an original Canada Moms Blog post. Kate also blogs at sweet | salty.