Sunday, Aug. 19, 2007 | 1:16 a.m.
This is one of those rare occasions when getting empathy from total strangers doesn't exactly make you feel better.
Last Monday I wrote about my 7-year-old son's first year in Clark County schools - about how his class trudged like nomads from one classroom to another during the year because it had no classroom to claim as its own, and how only two classmates showed up for his birthday party. This was our reward for moving into a new community, Mountain's Edge, and finding ourselves in a spanking new - and instantly bursting-at-the-seams - elementary school.
After taking a day off to celebrate the beginning of his not-so-epic two-week summer vacation, I returned to work Tuesday to find more than 20 voice mails and e-mails. More trickled in during the week.
I was hoping readers would take me to task, telling me that this was an aberration and not to lose the faith as my family settles into our new Las Vegas lifestyle.
But unfortunately, in comments cloaked in kindness, they told me I hadn't seen the half of it yet and to hang on - it just might get worse.
"Thank you for shedding light on what is every parent's lament about this School District," the first voice mail offered. "Welcome to Hell." At least she delivered the punch line with a chuckle.
Over and over I was informed of Las Vegas' "lack of community." The birthday party, in particular, seemed to strike a nerve. Some total strangers - evidence of caring souls in our patch of the desert - said that our son could come to their children's birthday parties - if we promised to invite their kids to ours. We got the sense there are a lot of lonely children out there.
But I lost what little optimism I was clutching onto when longtime residents turned against the city. An e-mailer detailed all the ways Las Vegas had been good to his family: In 10 years they'd bought a nice house and developed good careers with great pay. But they still held out no hope for their long-term well being. "My wife and I are desperate to leave Las Vegas before our children hit school age."
One mom related to people's lack of etiquette, such as not RSVPing for parties or how parents drop their kids off at parties without stepping inside to introduce themselves. It was just so unsettling, she said.
"I don't know these kids. I don't know their parents, I don't know who they are. It just shocks me," she said.
She was happy, however, that they'd been able to determine that five kids were coming to her daughter's birthday party last week. Her voice trailed off. "It's hard for the kids to make new friends in this community."
Danielle - who like us is a recent transplant from San Diego - was sitting in a hotel room waiting to move into her house when she read about our experiences. She called to express her fear of not being able to cope.
"I thought maybe you could give us some advice on living here," she said.
Unfortunately, I didn't have much. And I sure didn't want to pass along to her what others were telling me. It would hardly encourage her.
Like the grandmother who told me in a voice mail that, after 40 years of living in Las Vegas, she had the solution. Her message started with a polite recitation of her involvement in her son's school, years ago.
Then she slowly heated up.
"My advice to you, Mr. Wilson," she said, before breaking into a firm, staccato delivery, "is to grab your kids and GET. OUT. OF. THIS. STATE. if you care about their education, because this state is the worst. It's just ridiculous. This state has never been any good about funding schools or the school system itself."
She signed off with a pleasant little reminder.
"Bye-bye, and like I said, you need to leave this place if you care about your children."
Duly noted, ma'am.
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