"I really don't understand," said Mrs. Carlo that night at dinner, "How your birthday connects to public school. If you want to celebrate, Emmi, we can certainly plan a family date--would you like to visit the zoo, maybe? Or the Planetorium?"
"Public school is out of the question," said her father. "A private academy, perhaps, with certain educational opportunities that we could not provide here at home--"
"--with an emphasis on challenge, mathmatics, music, literature--" Cut in her mother.
"--that is willing to bend to your needs, perhaps, or offer a strong motivational environment--"
"--where there are other children with your capacity and potential for learning--"
"--But not public school," Mr. Carlo finished firmly. "Emily, you know that the public school environment could not support your needs. That system is directed at children who are not, shall we say, as capable as you are, dear. Honestly, the majority of students that attend are quite average."
"I don't care," Emmi scowled. "Mother is having a baby. Daddy works all day. I want to go somewhere and do something and make friends and...stuff...like all the other kids on the street. They all think I'm awkward, a pariah, and I can't stand it any longer."
Mrs. Carlo sighed. "Please think about this, Emily. Public school is not a descision to make lightly."
"Oh I know," said Emmi, carefully lifting a forkful of Roterisse Chicken Salad to her mouth.