I watched her on Day One, pulling up to the curb where signs clearly communicated that it was a loading and unloading zone for BUSES ONLY - no parking. Five minutes past the second bell. She's still learning, I told myself.
I watched her on Day Two, pulling up to the curb where signs clearly communicated that it was a loading and unloading zone for BUSES ONLY - no parking. Five minutes past the second bell. I should really tell her, I told myself.
On Day Three, as she pulled up to the very same curb, with the very same signs clearly communicating that it was a loading and unloading zone for BUSES ONLY, again five minutes late, I approached her window.
With doe-eyed wonder, she seemed genuinely surprised when I told her that the safest drop-off area was in the supervised circle to the south of the main entrance on the other side of the building.
"But they're only in first grade!" she protested, the expectant faces of her twin boys looking up at me.
I had watched dozens of very capable first graders step off the buses, head for the stairwell to the line-up area, with no parental guidance or protest evident.
I took both boys by the hand and walked them up the steps to the front door, pointed them down the hall, and watched as they very capably walked toward their respective classrooms.
Heading back out to my post at the curb, I heard her ask another parent volunteer what time school actually started.
Because she didn't get the same packet every parent got...including the bright pink sheet that outlined the schedule for first bell, second bell, recess times, lunch times, afternoon bell and drop-off/pick-up policies?
I wondered if her other vehicle was a pearl white Escalade with shiny 24-inch custom wheels. But I couldn't see her rhinestone-encrusted Crackberry, so I just wasn't sure.