“Lollipop” people in the U.K. are school crossing guards. So named for the shape of their traffic signs, police report ever-increasing incidents of Lollipop Rage.
I believe this; I see it here. Though unadorned with the cute name, their jobs are the same: bring traffic to a halt to safely see kids across the street in school zones. It shouldn’t be tough to understand, it shouldn’t be tough to respect, and it surely shouldn’t be dangerous.
Apparently, it is increasingly becoming all of those things. Drivers are honking, swearing, revving their engines, throwing things and even hitting them. All this, for a couple of hours of lightly paid work a day. No wonder jurisdictions everywhere are having difficulty signing up help.
Usually recruited from the ranks of the retired and at-home parents, the job is obviously more about caring for kids than making money. The weather can be torturous, yet day after day, the same guard at my kids’ school waves to everybody. Actually, another guard a few kilometers away used to wave to Christopher as we drove past before he even started school. He thought the guard knew him.
I’m tired of people cutting a right before the guard has seen children to the other side. I’m tired of people honking and fuming when the car ahead of them is allowing kids to cross safely. In case you are unaware, or simply don’t care, there are things you should know about kids:
I remember in grade four being a member of the safety patrol at my small school. When I put on that bright orange belt, I recall reveling in the power bestowed on my 8-year-old ego. I remember feeling duty bound to make sure no child was harmed on my admittedly near-carless route. And I remember thinking that same belt made me bulletproof.
Unfortunately, a paddle stop sign and an orange safety vest bestow no special powers unless we respect what they stand for. Remember being a kid; remember the freedom of warm weather; remember how many times you avoided some terrible event because somebody else was looking out for you.
Remember to thank the men and women that look out for all of our kids.
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