[Fiction] The Good School
Rage comments fly when two very different moms stir up high-stakes controversy on the San Francisco Mothers Board, the uber-popular app for privileged moms. Chronically ambitious Jess Hayes (JessMom415) relies on her Mothers Board friends to ensure that she’s doing everything a (good) mom should do for her son, Miles. But she and her husband, Paul, reach a breaking point in their marriage when Jess’s anger over learning that Miles will be barred from private school prompts her to make a giant mistake with far-reaching consequences–including her position on the Mothers Board.
Megan Mosley (Meega), meanwhile, is a widowed mom grappling with how to remove her precocious son, Marcus, from an increasingly toxic school situation, pop the bubble of privilege that is the Mothers Board–and keep up with the flirty texts from a new man in her life. But her choices become far more dire when enemies on the Mothers Board jump into the local School Board race with a petition to make it easier to suspend her darling boy, and other kids like him. A chance meeting IRL sends both women—with the help of their good friends (including Johnson W, San Francisco’s legendary Kindergarten Whisperer)—on a journey together to rethink both who they want to be, on and off the Mothers Board, and what it means to send their children to a good school.
Chapter 1
San Francisco Mothers Board: Discussion Forum
SF_Mom415
Q: Do you LOVE love your pediatrician?! Thinking about switching.
38 comments
Well, I don’t love her that much. Maybe we should upgrade? Mental note to research the best doctors once we get all our kinder applications in!
SilasMom
Q: Where do I try on baby carriers?
14 comments
Jessmom415
I love love Natural Babies. Definitely recommend!
Anonymous
Q: Should I be worried about my husband spending time with a female colleague on the weekends?
89 comments
Yikes. Can’t even click on this. Mental hug, mom.
Mom123
Q: Help, mamas! I can’t find a babysitter.
3 comments
Jessmom415
It’s crazy in San Francisco, right mamas?! Def check out Sitter Rescue! It’s been a lifesaver! Hooray for apps!
Lisacat
Q: Caffeine withdrawal: How long does it take, and any tips?
33 comments
Jessmom415
Gotta agree with the PPs! One word: Don’t ;)
Jessica Rogers (née Hayes) was sitting on her pee-sticky toilet in her robe at 7:15 am, one foot holding the door closed against the threat of her five-year-old son, Blake, barging in, and hanging out with her best friends. Well, she didn’t necessarily know all their real names, but there was no doubt that the other moms on the San Francisco Mothers Board were Jess’ people—most of them, at least. Jess had downloaded the San Francisco Mothers Board app, the go-to social media for local city moms, when Blakey was just a couple of weeks old and Jess was desperate for sleep advice. She could still remember the comforting glow of the green SFMB logo in the dark as she rocked and rocked (and rocked and rocked) Blakey at 3 a.m., somewhere between weeping inconsolably and on the verge of screaming at her tiny, perfect—and perfectly awake—baby. Or maybe just at her husband, Paul, who had scrolled through Twitter in the hospital labor room while she had cried with shame through the long hours of dilation post-epidural. Though, of course, she never said anything.
Jess’ phone buzzed.
Direct Message
To: JessMom415
From: SF+Mom
Ugh! Meega went off on a rant AGAIN on my post last night about the private school admissions tours. What is her PROBLEM?!
Jess bent deeper over her phone and hit reply, tensing at the sound of Blakey’s little feet pounding down the creaky original hardwood hallway towards the bathroom. Jess had learned how to type really, really fast in the last few years.
Direct Message
To: SF+Mom
From: JessMom415
So sad :( She, of course, has some good points, but she really isn’t helping her own cause with all her yelling. Speaking of which, I’m getting ready for my meeting with Mr. Kindergarten Whisperer! So … flats or heels? Which one says Brown & Chester material more? ;)
The bathroom door exploded, pushing Jess’s foot to the limits of her strength.
“Mommy! Mommy! I’m a firefighter! Gimme firetruck!”
Blakey was trying to open the door and get to one of the many plastic firetrucks stuffed into every corner of their claustrophobic, drafty bathroom. Jess closed her eyes, silently screaming at Paul to step in so Jess could have a moment of peace. One, two, three …
“BLAKE! SIT DOWN!” Paul finally shouted in the kitchen. “Leave Mommy alone with her phone and poop for a few minutes.”
Jess rolled her eyes as Blake rediverted towards the kitchen, and she had a second to shake out the pain in her foot before wedging it against the door again, but tried not to begrudge Paul’s particular choice of words. He still didn’t know about SFMB, as far as Jess could tell, and probably did think she was doing other kinds of business. Which was lucky, given that she mostly used the app as a place to vent anonymously about Paul. Turned out everyone else also secretly hated their husbands—or wives, it was an inclusive group, after all—the first year. (Though, of course, now it had been five.)
Jess opened another message and typed quickly, flexing her toes to ensure they didn’t fall asleep. She had removed the lock when Blakey began toilet training a few years ago—still a work in progress—but now wished she hadn’t.
Direct Message
To: SF+Mom
From: JessMom415
By the way, I loved loved the Mom Huddle you organized last month. SO creative and sweet with the beach theme. Do you think you’ll be organizing another one soon? I haven’t seen anything about this coming month. But I’d love to help!
“BLAKE! STOP JUMPING OVER—NO—JUST EAT YOUR GODDAMN TOAST!”
Feeding Blakey breakfast was Paul’s one parenting chore of the day, and he still couldn’t get it right. He was also supposed to take Blake to school that morning, though Jess had her doubts he could pull it off. Paul had only offered after guilting Jess into sex the previous night; it had been a few months since their last sex date, and this would be Paul’s first time doing the school run all year.
Choosing to ignore her frustration for the moment, Jess scrolled over to her calendar and reconfirmed her completely scheduled day. As she suspected, she had about 15 minutes before she needed to be in the firetruck-choked, cracking shower and, as much as she wanted to keep chatting with Vicky, she also wanted to review a list of things to discuss with the director of Blakey’s preschool when she met with him that afternoon for the all-important kindergarten admissions counseling session. Jess could barely believe the day had finally come! She and Paul had been paying through the nose to send Blake to one of the fanciest private preschools in the city for the last two years, pretty much for this exact opportunity. Johnson Wong, the director, was known as the kindergarten whisperer in San Francisco.
In fact, it had been Vicky, of course, who had inadvertently convinced Jess to put in Blake’s application to Little Wonders three months after he was born, and Jess was glad she listened. Jess had spent the next two years secretly tracking admission rates every spring to analyze her odds, and, in short, it was easier to get into Harvard. The business model was extraordinary! Still, Jess hadn’t been able to help but (privately) assume that it would be impossible for any preschool to not absolutely adore her big-hearted boy. So, she was both mollified and, well, honestly, extremely confused when it turned out to be the only preschool that accepted Blake. Especially since her baby had been getting over a little fever the day of his interview for Wonders and had been uncharacteristically quiet and low-energy.
In truth—and she’d never say this to Vicky—the experience at Little Wonders hadn’t been quite what Jess had expected or hoped for based on all the glowing reviews she had read on SFMB and elsewhere. It was definitely good, but she was embarrassed to admit that she didn’t love it there (let alone love love), especially since it cost $30K a year, as Paul repeatedly reminded her when he opened their monthly credit card bills.
“Killer,” that was his pet name for her, much to Jess’s embarrassment when they were in public. “They better be teaching them how to cure cancer AND dunk like Baby-Faced Assassins for that much dough!” Jess had had to look up the basketball reference.
Jess had been tempted on more than one occasion during those tense little spats to invite Paul to do his own dang research to find and successfully apply to a cheaper preschool with equally impressive kindergarten admission rates that would also guarantee Blake’s admissions into an Ivy (where, yes, maybe he would cure cancer, Paul), but always bit her tongue in the name of maintaining a healthy marriage. She knew she was lucky to have a faithful husband, and besides, this meeting would surely make the two years of struggling to justify the cost worth everything!
“Focus, mama,” Jess reminded herself as she quickly washed her hands with the triclosan-free organic soap one of the SFMB moms had recommended and headed back into the hall.
“Killer, we’re taking off! Say goodbye to your smokin’ mommy, B-man,” Paul yelled from down the hall as he zipped their son’s monkey stuffie into Blakey’s bright red Firefighter Ted backpack. (Needless to say, Jess had packed the rest of the stuff Blake needed for school the night before.) Jess shuffled over to the kitchen in her decidedly unflattering robe and turned her face to allow Paul to brush a kiss on her cheek, trying to think of something sexy to say instead of reminding him yet again not to refer to her as “smokin’” in front of their son. Jess came up blank. Coffee, she needed coffee.
“Smoking is BAD! I’m a firefighter!” Jess vaguely registered Blake whispering to himself as the boy jumped up and banged into the door of his room repeatedly, laughing. Blake’s athleticism really was astounding sometimes.
Jess dug deep as she started pulling out the coffee machine. Paul was still staring at her. “Heyyyy … you!” She cringed as Paul wrinkled his dark brows at her in confusion.
But then his face lit up in delight. “Yeah, hey. Oh, Jess, here’s a good one for you: Did you ever hear about the dad who tried to keep his wife happy through labor by telling jokes, but she didn't laugh once? Know why?!”
Jess smiled automatically, though she immediately answered, “Because he was scrolling through Twitter and hadn’t bothered to attend any OB appointments and had a trip planned for work the next day, and he still can’t feed his only child toast without shouting” silently in her head. Paul was an accountant but aspired to be a stand-up comic/TV comedy writer. Jess was trying to be supportive. Really. Thankfully, Blake sprinted down the hallway away from his door just then, his mop of coppery brown hair zooming back as he prepared to catapult himself into Jess’ arms for a full-body hug. Her sweet, inexhaustible little boy. Always in motion.
“You, uh, I don’t know,” Jess mumbled, turning toward her son to ensure he didn’t knock over the coffee machine.
Though she never admitted it to anyone, even on SFMB, and she knew it was, of course, completely age-appropriate, Jess often found herself getting a little embarrassed by Blake’s high energy when she was around other moms, especially Vicky. She of course considered herself a card-carrying feminist and had marched in her (Etsy-ordered) pink pussy hat at least twice, but she found herself excusing Blake’s big, loud behavior at the playground on those occasions with an offhand, “Boys are so high energy!” laugh and sigh when she felt like the other moms were giving her looks.
“I LOOOOOOVE you, mom!!!!!!” Blakey slammed into her stomach with an audible whump, causing Jess’s already beat-up phone to fall out of her pocket and onto the wood floor. The coffee machine also lurched precariously for a long moment. She tried to hide her wince, acutely aware of how little money she had to spare for a new phone that month. (And how much she needed that drink.)
Jess bent down to wrap Blake in her arms, surprising herself as always with how hard she wanted to squeeze her son when he was close. No matter what, this squirming kid with his excited little hot kid breaths was everything to her, and she was determined to do the best by him, phone and coffee be damned. She knew every (good) mother felt this way about their child. But she still couldn’t fathom anyone loving someone else as much as she loved her perfect little big Blake, not even Vicky—she was so awful to even think that! Surely any kindergarten worth its maddeningly hefty application fee would be tripping over its crested marble floor to admit Blake Rogers!
Speaking of schools, maybe she should bring cookies or wine to her meeting with Johnson?! Or was that frowned upon? All the books and articles Jess had read on this stuff were just too broad; it drove both the mom and businesswoman parts of her nuts. In fact, though she had never shared this with her friends on the app, Jess had frequently mused to herself that it would be so easy to monetize SFMB if someone with real business sense were allowed to take over and update its dusty nonprofit business model. Clean up the user interface, create paid membership tiers, get rid of some of the more troublesome members, etc. …
What was that humming in her ear? Right, Blake.
“I love you, too, my little bug! I am so lucky to be your mom!” Jess squeezed again with all her might, trying to quiet her mind. Blake immediately began to squirm, and after just a few seconds, violently wrenched himself out of her arms, slammed into the hand-print smudged, white plywood kitchen peninsula cabinets, and laughed. Jess fell back onto the black and green penny tile hard on her butt, smashing into her phone on the way down while Paul lifted Blake out of the kitchen and to the front door of their third-floor walkup Victorian midrise, still staring at Jess in anticipation.
“Bye, Mom! I’m a FIREFIGHTER!”
“It was the delivery, killer. Delivery. Get it?!”
Jess sat up and blew her boys a final kiss, nodding vaguely at Paul’s punchline, as she covertly reached behind her and swiped open her phone again (thankfully still intact). Spending time with her talented little Blake always reminded her how important it was for her to mine every advantage as the kindergarten admissions season approached, even if she did need to get in the shower and finish up some work emails before heading downtown. But not before coffee. No. Never.
“Knock em’ dead today, OK, killer?”
“Who did mommy kill, Dad?” Blake wondered aloud.
Jess grimaced and typed as fast as possible, pointedly ignoring her husband’s hopeful eyes.
Jessmom415
Q: Help! Meeting with the Kindergartener Whisperer today for the BIG meeting. What gift will he love love?!