iona is being wexler tested. to see if she qualifies for ‘gifted’, as in thou shall be gifted the best education the public system has to offer. don’t get me started. i’m just complying. I’m here on hibiscus island. in the home of dr. trushin. an elderly jewish lady who’s been testing for 40 years. iona is in good hands. she’s nervous. mommy what if I’m not gifted? my dutch communist father’s genes convulse in me. you are gifted no matter what, i say. there are knick-knack’s everywhere. in “the room where moms sit”, (is there another room where dads sit?) you may encounter my husband, she says, he likes to chat with the moms. i havent seen him yet but a chiwawa stops by, sniffs my leg, trembles and tootles off as if its wearing high heels. there are three wooden cats in pink spotted pajams fishing off the edge of an old vcr system. (knick-knacks I said). on the glass coffee table: russian dolls, a soldered couple made from scrapmetel dances under a tiny streetlight, a clump of coral, sharks made from driftwood, a collection of swarowski mice (rats?), a rainbow lead glass unicorn in the glass sliding door that looks out over a small kidney shaped pool.
picture perfect come retire on hibiscus island.
i think I’m just gonna leave and drive around for a bit… call my mom in amsterdam. how are the girls? every other house is for sale; miami vice style, spanish style, modern concrete boxes, adobe style, lapidus style, fifties modern bungalows (my favorite), all lush and palms and yachts on the private docks. its tranquil. i drive off the island. onto the busy causeway, the miami business skyscrapers rise ahead of me, biscayne bay on both sides, the docks where vast cruise ships are moored next to container ships. its a city. not just a beach/gay paradise/ eurotrash sundestination/retiree community. miami is a city and its beautiful. it reminds me of a tropical amsterdam.
dr trushin calls me into her office. iona scored very well she says. but she was shy. i get the feeling she’s been sheltered, protected from the world until now. you got that right, but how could that impact her iq score negatively i wonder but do not say. i’m pleased. i tell her about the twins. the tears, the dread of the scary spanish teacher yelling at the bad kids that starts their every day. take them out of that class right away, she says, sounding like a jewish granny. i want to hug her. i love her. i’ve been suffering too, not knowing what to do. she just gave me permission to have a chat with that principal and take a stand. i have an appointment at 11 am tomorrow.
oh and yesterday, while wondering what i’m doing here, i assembled IKEA stuff. i now have a desk and a chair at which i write this and life is much improved.