It's an odd day. I've mistakenly thought today was Friday five different times today, so aligned was the end of school with the end of the week in my mind. For some reason I was very aware that today was the last "drop the children off on the way to work" morning of the school year. We'll be doing it all again in September, but I was filled with memories of walking out of my high school on the last day of school and hearing multiple cars blaring "SCHOOL'S OUT FOR THE SUMMER! SCHOOL'S OUT FOR-EVAH!" in what each driver planned for days or weeks in advance to be a clever and witty display of individualism.
|"Seriously? No possibility for royalties? Remind me why I have you on retainer again."|
|Though I have lingering doubts about its accreditation to this day.|
...but I won't.
I remember that odd dichotomy of knowing how vestigial the last day of school was, how even the teachers had summer vacation on the brain and the building was practically vibrating with eagerness for the final bell to ring so we could all just leave, with no one really able to define the point of even being there... and yet knowing that it was all necessary, in some way. There had to be a last day of school, to punctuate the end of the long sentence we'd just spent the fall and spring composing.
So I made my way through the labyrinthine drop-off lines for the last time this year. This begins with the crossing guard, a kindly older lady who I somewhat naively thought was recognizing and waving at us each morning until I noticed that she waved at everyone who drove past her (very busy, at 7:30 AM) intersection.
|I thought I was special, Mavis, you brazen hussy.|
|Whose (Drop-Off) Line Is It, Anyway?|
At the elementary school there has been much effort made to avert speeding. For one, the ingress to the school from the street is littered with parking lot curbs made to act as speed bumps, though in my experience they're unnoticeable at any speed below 117 mph.
|Me arriving at the elementary school, back in February.|
You could make your child get out at this sign, then inch past them two or three times as the line of cars creeps forward and lets you awkwardly wave at them each time, though the line certainly slows more as other people hop out of their cars to take photos of The First Person To Ever Drop Their Kid Off At That Sign Ninety Miles From The School's Front Door.
|"Okay, hop out here. No, the school's up there, I promise. You just can't see it because of the storm system blowing into that part of town. You'll see when you get there."|
The middle school has fewer concerns about speeding, with gradual turns and angles which invite entering the parking lot at a satisfying speed.
|"Be careful, you know how badly you bit your tongue when I did that bitchin' burnout last week."|
|The drop-off line at the middle school.|
It is always the same fucking woman. She's made me revisit my views on violence against women on a near-weekly basis. Her child is never having difficulty gathering things from the car nor exiting the vehicle. Indeed, this moron is sitting in Park in the middle of the drop-off line, carrying on animated discussions with a nearby teacher or faculty member while sticking her arm out of the driver's side window to wave other people around her like she's doing us all a great service by letting us know that she's perfectly aware that she's holding up the whole goddamned IDEA of a quick streamlined pull-up-and-drop-off line in the service of sitting there running her mouth about whatever goddamned thing passes for conversation with a halfwit, and-
Were it not for the real likelihood that it'd degenerate into the police telling me I'm not allowed within 500 yards of the school next fall, I would have marched up to this bitch's waving arm and told her to get her corpulent ass out of the way, and maybe think about how her actions affect others instead of devoting the whole of her cognitive abilities to analyzing the results of last night's American Idol episode.
|And, with all that waving, maybe consider a part-time crossing guard position.|
|"I suggest biting the head off of a barnyard animal for emphasis. Then again, that's always my suggestion, so take that with a grain of salt and a chicken's skull."|
|"You'd better have your backpack, because I'm not coming back through the line again today."|