BATTLE ZONE FOR PARENTS TWICE A DAY
Mums and dads are hardened in the crucible of the school drop-off and pick-up – a war zone fraught with danger and exacerbated by frustration and aggression
KISS and go, quick zone, dropoff bay … no matter what you call it, school traffic is a war zone.
As the Gold Coast gears up into ever-more hysterical histrionics over parking and traffic with the Comm Games looming, parents across the country are rolling their eyes.
Welcome to our lives. It’s less a rite of passage than a tour of duty for mums and dads who take their lives in their hands every time they’re behind the wheel on school grounds.
I’m not sure why Games organisers didn’t just build a traffic committee consisting solely of P&F presidents. Those people are veterans.
They were there back in the days when station wagons would dump two dozen unsecured children in an empty school parking lot at the break of dawn … and they were there when the militaryissue SUVs started rolling in with just one 10-year-old – usually still in a car seat.
As the cars drive in and the cars drive out, we remember them. Lest we forget their contribution to making the school run less of a rat race.
Our school has pretty much nailed it this year. We have strict entry times – gates are actually locked until 20 minutes prior to pick-up – to prevent the line-up of cars which would begin assembling an hour before school finished.
Yes, you need to study the parent handbook for a good hour before the school year begins, but that swotting is worth it.
I pull up, kick open the doors, the kids jump in and we’re out of there without me even hitting the brakes. Okay, slight exaggeration. I pull up, one child appears, we wait. That child runs off to find the other one when he magically appears – after she has disappeared. We wait. And wait. Then we get a phone call from that child’s best friend’s mother who now has those children at the neighbouring markets.
We swear.
It’s quite the study in psychology watching the parents in pick-up.
Given that our cars seem to grant us feelings of both invisibility and invincibility, manners are sometimes left by the roadside.
Which is weird because in the school car park – unlike space – everyone can hear you scream. And – just like Cheers – everybody knows your name.
Prior to our new system, I’ve seen parents flip the bird, then realise it’s a friend and hop out of the car to chat.
However, I’m not sure everyone is as enamoured of our system as I am.
Arriving at school early one day, I studiously parked the car in an allowed zone and entered the office to chat to a mate. Look, if you can befriend the admin, school life is a breeze.
As the time approached to remove the gates and let in the masses, I wandered out to the car park to give her a hand.
That was an eye-opener. And, almost, a toe-crusher.
She had barely started wheeling the gate across when a self-important SUV swooped, the driver shaking his head at this school employee’s audacity in obeying school rules.
It really makes me wonder: just why are you in such a rush to pick up your child, anyway?
It’s certainly not for the scintillating conversation. Me: How was your day? Them: *grunts*
Me: What happened? Them: *silence*
Cut to five hours later at bedtime.
Me: Goodnight
Her: I was bullied today. Me: Good girl. Off to sleep now.
Her: So I punched the boy in the eye.
Me: That’s nice. Do you want back tickles?
No, the real reason everyone is in a rush is simple … it’s to beat the traffic home.
Fortunately for me, the Comm Games is giving me a game-changer in the war against road rage: the Games Lane.
Look, I’ll be honest … I have dabbled from time to time with life in the Bus Lane. Only on mornings when we are in danger of a tardy slip – but I do feel I am setting a bad example. Especially when the cops pull me over.
Luckily my husband has a legit permit to drive in the special CG lane. Even better, it means he gets to carry the family baton as official driver.
As for the rest of you footsoldiers driving in the slow lane, suck it up and just remember: this too shall pass.
Meanwhile, the parent army will continue the good fight: drop off; pick up; repeat. Beep, beep, yeah.