I don’t understand the rich, because I am not rich. Maybe if I was rich, I would think that scheduling so many extra-curricular activities for my toddler that he’s too booked to learn how to play, was normal. Then maybe I would also think it was normal to pay someone $400 an hour to teach my over-scheduled toddler how to play – not for his own joy, mind you – but to ensure that he wouldn’t come across as socially inept during his super-competitive private pre-K admissions.
Again, I’m not rich, so I think this is totally fucking weird.
Instructors teach kids how to properly socialize with other rich kids during these pre-planned playtimes. From the NY Post:
â€śSome kids need a little bit more workâ€ť at learning how to play, said Suzanne Rheault, the CEO of one of the firms that organize play dates, called Aristotle Circle. â€śSometimes [parents] hear from our experts that there are some areas to improve.â€ť
â€śGiven that admission rates [to elite kindergartens] are so low, parents donâ€™t want to leave anything to chance,â€ť Rheault said.
Why would you want to “leave anything to chance” when you can instead take your little being and pour all of this knowledge into him and ensure that he is well-bred enough to gain admission into elite Kindergarten classes? Maybe if you weren’t so busy filling your 3-year-old’s schedule with French and violin lessons, he would have some time to actually play, organically, on his own – and not be a total social outcast. Why bother worrying about these things though, when you can pay someone to “fix” him.
Rheaultâ€™s pricey play dates involve groups of three to five 4-year-olds playing in a room. The experts closely monitor how the kids share crayons, color, follow directions in Simon Says, and hold a pencil.
All this childâ€™s play is deadly serious for parents, because the toddlers will be judged on these skills when they apply to top-end schools, such as Trinity and Horace Mann.
Yuck. Have you ever seen Rich Kids Of Instagram? This is how those little a-holes were groomed. Don’t get all up-in-arms, I’m not calling kindergartners “a-holes.” I’m calling them “future a-holes.”