Drop Off

I haven't been blogging much lately (thanks, to those of you who've noticed), partly because of the Demon Flu (little publicized strain that takes a back seat to the Bird Flu but is almost as lethal), but also because over the holidays I seem to have just dried up--creatively, philosophically, and humorously. Now that the kids are back in school, the juices seem to have begun flowing again. Coincidence? It's possible. I doubt it.

Anyway, now that the kids are in school, something has come to my attention (again) that simply must be addressed. None of the people I'm actually addressing will read this, but I'll feel better for having gotten it off my chest.

The drop off. That's right, the all-important time of day when all the parents from a three-square-block area load the kids into their SUVs and converge on the local elementary school. Why don't the kids walk? you ask. Good question. A very good question indeed. By the way, I have an excuse. My kid doesn't go to school in the area, and we have to travel almost three miles. That seems a little far to ask a kid to walk every morning, even if she owned shoes, and it wasn't uphill and snowing.

So all five hundred kids show up in sports utility vehicles or minivans at 8:58 a.m., approximately two minutes before the bell rings. All five hundred parents are most anxious for their child to be on time. All five hundred parents are willing to do pretty much anything it takes to make this happen, except for leave the house early, including driving up on the sidewalk. This has prompted the school adminstration to create a simple but effective system for the safe deposit of children on school grounds, avoiding squished children and the obligatory lawsuits that accompany them.

Here's how it works. Try to visualize. If that doesn't work, draw something up as you read.

Three lanes, in a circular drive in front of the school. We'll ignore lane three for now, since it's not supposed to be used until after school. Lane one, closest to the school, is for parking (ever so briefly) as your children get out of the car. Children are asked to use only the doors that open out onto the sidewalk. Someone thinks this will be safer than having people running around in the middle of the drop-off lanes. They're probably right.

Lane two, in the middle, is the drive-through lane. Cars that are moving are encouraged to either 1) keep moving, or 2) merge into and park, briefly, in lane one.

That's it. So very simple. There's a crosswalk cutting through the middle of all three lanes, and a crossing guard is available to help any children and parents who need to come in from the street (approximately fifty feet away). For example, let's say you needed to talk with your child's teacher for a minute. Lane one is not for you. You park on the street, escort your children across the crosswalk, and into the school. While you're inside, your car is in no one's way, and when you're done, you simply walk out, get in and drive away. This may seem like an obvious course of action, but trust me, it's not.

The parking protocol is discussed at length with parents and children at the beginning of each school year. Children are indoctrinated to the point of brainwashing on how they are or are not to leave and enter their cars. Parents are sent letters--multiple letters on how to drop off and pick up their children in a way that is safe and courteous for all. So here's what I see happening.

1. People who feel they are too important (or possibly too disabled) to walk from the street pull up, park in lane one, turn off their engines, get out of the car, and go inside. Whether they come out again, I couldn't say. I don't hang around long enough to find out. The people that really get me are the ones who don't leave enough space between the crosswalk and their car for another car to pull in, taking up space for two cars.

2. People who pull around in lane two, only to find that all the spots in lane one are taken. Since it's late, they can't be expected to drive around and come through again. So they stop, letting their children out of the car in the middle of the madness, and hope the kid makes it to the sidewalk. The kid, incidentally, spends the first part of the school year crying, begging their parents not to make them break the rules. This has little to no effect. A couple of weeks in, they're jaded.

2a. People who let their kids get out in lane two from the left-hand side of the car, causing them to come in potential contact with even more traffic.

3. People who pull in to a spot that's clearly meant for a car half the size of theirs. So they have to pull in diagonally, causing the person behind them to be stuck, and all the people in lane two to have to stop, since the rear end of their car is crossing all three lanes.

4. People who have to drop their kid off at a certain point, since no child of twelve or under is capable of walking the length of the school to get to class. Keep in mind there are only about five hundred students. The entire grounds of the school are less than 100 yards long. Possibly less than fifty. So even though there are empty spots at the opposite end of the school, this person has to sit in lane two and wait for the spot to open up at this end, causing everyone else to sit and wait, while the other end of the driveway empties out.

4a. And this is perhaps my personal favorite. The car that pulls in to drop off at the near end of the lane, lets a child out, darts back out into lane two, pulls up at the other end of lane one, and lets another child out. Could you, perhaps, let them out in the middle? Or ask one of your children to walk? They could even take turns, maybe, getting out at their closest spot every other day. I don't know, but it seems to me that a very sick lesson is being taught here, when a parent caters to a child that much. I forsee trouble ahead.

These are our future leaders, and here is what they've learned, even before they enter the hallowed halls of learning of a morning:

1. No rule applies to me unless I want it to.
2. Everyone will stop for me and make sure I get what I want, even if it's not convenient for anyone but me.
3. If I want to sleep in, watch a cartoon show, or eat an extra bowl of Marshmallow Matey's, no problem. There's always someone here to solve my problems and make sure I get there on time.
4. Never extend yourself physically for any reason. You may need that energy later.
5. Push, shove, and butt in line. You deserve to get the place you want. Never allow anyone to make you wait.
6. Your time is more important than anyone else's. It's also more important than other's safety.

So to the enlightened parents of these dear children, who are growing up to be the teenaged monsters that demand rides from their friends' parents to wherever they want to go at 11:30 p.m. on a Friday night and don't ever thank them or acknowledge their existence, I say you need stiffer consequences. Let the punishment fit the crime.

So next time you choose to show how discourteous, unintelligent, and ill-fitted for parenting you are in the school parking lot, you and your big, dumb, gas-guzzling SUV will be thrown off a cliff. Don't worry about your kids. They'll be fine. I hear the Foster Parenting program here is great. Those Foster Parents have to sign something in blood saying they will never be discourteous drivers.

Now, does someone have a suggestion for me? My eye is twitching.