Car Line

The sweltering Florida heat hits you as a combination, one two punch, first as a wave and then as a brick wall, as you exit the comfort of the air-conditioned building. I am the first one out on the line. The cars are lined up snaking around the bend, onto the road, and even further out to the boulevard. Everything is quiet on the breezeway. I sip a few gulps of water from my purple tumbler and enjoy the token of refreshment it brings in the oppressive heat. The ice remained throughout the day. I smile. It’s been a good first week of school.

The back door opens out of the multipurpose room. Out in a flurry, come the patrols. They are the responsible fifth grade students here to assist with dismissal. They wear a distinctive, yellow neon safety belt, white shirt and dark blue pants or skirts. They emerge with large orange traffic cones. Some hug them securely; others fumble a bit. Some totter back and forth on them once they are in place. This is the first sign to the parents that the line will soon be moving.

And just like that, the first students begin happily clearing the same door just traversed by the patrols. Their beautiful faces, black, white, brown; smiling, some a bit distracted, the kindergarteners slightly confused. There are older brothers and sisters doing their best to guide their younger siblings. At their age, this can be a monumental task.

In a “perfect run” nine to ten cars can be filled at one time. We wave both of our arms in a rhythmic pattern motioning the cars forward. To the students we shout, “Follow your car!” The tendency to stop as soon as you see your child can leave a large gap that could have been filled by five or six additional cars. It is a delicate balance of assuring safety, moving forward and sensing momentum.

I stand at the far end as I see there is plenty of help under the breezeway. Some of the older students are looking into the distance to track their cars. If the timing is right, and they are willing to move with purpose, I can take them out beyond the patrols. I tell them to have a great afternoon. I do this over and over and realize that my whole body is damp with sweat, even my eyelids! The adult running the car line says, “Lewis, you are doing a great job!” Her whole face lights up with a smile.

Some children congregate and enjoy one more conversation with their friends and forget to watch for their parents. It’s a beautiful sight, even though it slows the whole process down. I am holding the hand of a little boy. He is concerned that he does not see his car. We are looking and looking. At the front of the line, a teacher shouts, “Jason! We need Jason!” I begin parroting her message in the loudest voice I can muster. She makes her way towards me and reads the tag of the boy I am with. Sure enough, he is Jason!

More teachers are arriving. They have completed dismissal from their zones and are now helping us. The line is still snaking around but is no longer spilling over into the street. The crowd consists of more adults than children. We are almost done. There is a point that the gate will be locked. We high-five, we chat, we walk back into the building. The satisfying sensation of cooled air against my cheeks is the final signal car line is complete!