This month marks the one year anniversary of our abrupt shift to working from home and online learning. The shut-down. Memories appear in snippets. My new home office. The kids’ new workspaces. My new 5 a.m. alarm to work before the kids wake. A new shopping routine. New food storage space in the basement. New masks. So much “new” that is a testament - newer isn’t better.
When the kids returned to school in the hybrid model last fall, our boys had in-person learning on Tuesdays and Fridays. The youngest’s school policy is that students not be dropped off before 7:45 a.m. because they will be unsupervised on the playground. We are stalwart 7:45-ers because I want to avoid the drop-off line and get going on my workday.
One day last fall, I was taking my time getting the kids out the door because I had a wave of productivity that morning and wasn’t feeling rushed. While fixing my to-go mug, I noticed our seventh grader with his backpack over the bulk of his coat, sitting at the kitchen table looking miserable. I asked what was wrong. With sad eyes and a sadder tone he said, “I’m missing out on time with my friends.” As his words sunk in, so did my regret.
The early drop-offs had become a lifeline. After months of no contact with his friends, that early morning time on the playground for two days a week brought him a joy and sense of connection that he’d been missing. I’ve felt the parental pangs of not being able to do enough for the kids during this pandemic, but getting him to school at 7:45 a.m. so he could have more time with friends was something I could do.
From that day on – through earlier wakeups, breakfast planning, easier lunch assembly and blazing over the Benton Street Overpass on occasion—I ensured he had that morning time with friends. Our routine allowed me to ease in to the parking lot and pull right up to the school. We exchanged our “I love yous” and “have a great days” before the drop-off line could form, and he exited the vehicle smoothly with smiles all around.
One day just before spring break, I was late. Bogged down by the memories of a year ago, I was slow-moving and caught myself processing it all. The smells in the air and the lighting in the sky brought it all back. I apologized on the way to school and explained my struggle. With maturity and grace, the seventh grader navigated his disappointment in me with his eager anticipation to play football with friends.
Because we were later, we hit the drop-off line at its peak. The drop-off line elicits emotions in me stretching from rage to empathy. I’m either in a hurry and impatient with people’s lollygagging or I enjoy sharing waves and smiles with familiar faces. When a family in front of us is chatting in the car while holding up the entire line, I either label them the most self-centered humans on earth or I imagine their kids having a rough morning and sincerely smile at them being coaxed out of the car. When I have to wait for more than seconds in the drop-off line, I could either write a stand-up routine or a anger-fueled manifesto that would land me on an FBI watch-list. There is no in-between.
As we stalled to a standstill in the drop-off line this week, I had time to watch. Parents followed the rules. Parents broke the rules. Kids scurried. Kids dawdled. Cars sped. Cars crawled. There was as much variation in peoples’ behaviors as there was in my head.
I wish the author(s) of the recent ISJ Editorial “No Time for a Victory Lap” could see what I was seeing. That editorial focused on all of the things that School District 25 officials need to do in the wake of the failed recall effort, and not on what we as a community need to do. The drop-off line is a great example. It’s all up to the parents and students to move things forward.
Calls for unity often focus on what the other party can do, but for thoughtful dialogue to happen, introspection is needed by all sides. Regarding the hot-button issues of the past few years involving school boundaries, the Indians mascot and pandemic-related decisions, every single one of us – myself included - could have done more listening, apologizing, back-spacing, researching, mediating, reconciling, showing up, and then listening some more.
The quality of a school district does not only rely only on the leaders in charge but also the constituents engaged. The drop-off line is as good as any indicator out there. As we strive to move forward, Parents, we’ve got some work to do.
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