Car Line Nazis


I was prepared to be hated by the teachers at my kids’ elementary school this year.  Really, I was.  After Little B’s stellar experience in Pre-K, I figured there was some kind of pool amongst the Kindergarten teachers over the summer…you know, where the loser gets Little B.  I get it.  He’s a handful.  I expected instant recognition when I walked into the school with him for the first time this year.  We certainly got that.  He’s well-known among the faculty there. 

This morning, however, I became the subject of scrutiny and disdain by the other parents when I attempted to drop him off in the car line at school.  This, I was not prepared for.

It all started about a week ago when Little A started going to a friend’s house to be babysat (babysitted?) while everyone else started school.  Her pre-k schedule is staggered, and doesn’t start full-time until next Wednesday.  Little B loves the lady who’s keeping Little A, and when he got wind of this little arrangement, he got pretty upset that he’s not getting to go over there too.  This morning, when we were dropping off Ana, he restated  his objections to the situation, and the entire way to school, he went on and on about how it wasn’t fair that Little A got to go there, and he has to go to school.  He said that school was boring.  He said that he just gets in trouble at school, and he doesn’t like it.  I reassured him that he was a good boy and he would get better as time went on.  He wasn’t drinking my kool-aid.  I really thought that this would fizzle out by the time we waited in the car line for 15 minutes, inching up ever-so-slowly, because we have to, but also hoping the slow-going trip will help transition him into “school mode.” 

It didn’t work. 

Me: “Okay, you can take off your seatbelt now, baby, we are almost up there.”

Little B: “No!  I don’t want to go to school!”

Me: “Look, you have to take off your seatbelt, the teacher is about to open the door.”

Little B: “No!”

Seconds before the door opened, Little B quickly snapped off his belt, and jumped across the seat to the opposite side.  The teacher opened the door and said, “Oh, hello B.”  I’d never seen this woman in my life, but apparently Little B’s reputation precedes him.  After a few moments of gently prodding him, to no avail, I had to get out of my vehicle, and open the other back door.  He sees this coming, jumps into the third-row seat. 

Now, I don’t know how much you know about the Rules of Engagement in the morning car line at school, but it’s pretty specific.  There’s a duty-officer there who is supposed to be enforcing these rules, but slip up once and you’ll see it’s the other mothers you have to watch out for! Your kid should be un-seatbelted and ready to jump out of the car when the door opens.  There are 4-5 teachers standing in line ready to grab the kids and herd them toward the door.  As they are closing the car door, you are accelerating as quickly as possible to make room for a new row of cars to unload.  There are cars lined up for at least a mile, and they all have  a clear view of the goings-on in the row in front of them.  Don’t try to skip the line by coming down the opposite lane of travel in an attempt to supersede the line.  It’s not your turn, buddy.  No one is going to let you in.  And if they do, at least one of the mothers in the real car line will get out and whoop both your ass, and the ass of the person who was stupid kind enough to show you mercy. 

We held up that line this morning by about 1.6 minutes, which, when converted to Car Line Standard Time, (CLST) equals about 22 minutes.  Of their lives.  Gone.  Forever. 

I was so ashamed as I pulled my son by one arm from the back then drug him (ever-so-gently!) out of the vehicle, then pushed him (flailing and screaming) into the arms of the sturdiest teacher I could put my eyes on, that I ran and jumped back in my car and flew away, hoping (in vain) not be recognized.  As I circled around, I tried not to make direct eye-contact with any of the Car Line Nazis. 

I gave the school principal permission on at least three separate occasions last year to paddle him.  They never did. (What the heck is it THERE for, if they are not willing to USE it? Are there WORSE kids at this school than mine?).  

I bet they are re-thinking that whole “let’s not paddle B” strategy right this very moment.

Advertisements

About zohrbak

Zohrbak is an old email username I had a while back...it's a made-up twist on two characters from Spaceghost. Zorak and Brak. I'm a geek. I am a married, working mother of 4 children, ages 4-15. I also have interests outside of my children, but I can never remember what they are.
This entry was posted in bad kids, crazy kids, Family, Humor, Parenthood, School, The Joys of Parenthood and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Car Line Nazis

  1. YaYa says:

    OMG! I can so see him jumping seats and as a mother in a car rider lane I can see the face of all those car line nazis giving you the evil eye. You are going to have to go in a different vehicle tomorrow so they nazis don’t recognize you. You can find comfort in the idea that there is possibly some other mother out there who’s son attends your school that is worse than Little B, and pray the 2 of these boys don’t become buddy!

  2. Mary says:

    I had a similar probably with Hannah when she was in kindergarten. After being off for Thanksgiving she thought school was over so when it came time to go back to school we were waiting at the end of the driveway when she saw the bus come out of the road to come to our house to pick her up she began crying and laying on the ground. I would try to pick her up but she should just throw herself back on the ground. When the bus stopped in front of my house all I could do was carry her to the bus and try to put her on but she was not having any of that so the bus driver, Ms. Canoe, called one of the sixth graders from the back of the bus and told her to pick her up and take her to her sit.

    I cried all the way to work thinking I was such a bad mother. When I got to work I called the school and spoke to Ms. Canoe who proceeded to tell me that as soon as she closed the door on the bus and drove away that Hannah quit crying and started playing games with the girl who put her in her sit. It just made me want to go the school and beat her for making my day start off so bad.

  3. Aimee says:

    THe school line parents are the same parents I have previously complained about at open houses, teacher conference days, etc. They are the same ones who look at me strange bc I had the audacity to wear flip flops with my jeans (I mean please, everyone knows you should wear your best pearls when making a trip to the school! ) to meet with the teacher. I’m NOT a slob by any means of the word, but really, I don’t see the big deal. The woman is a TEACHER, not a celebrity. These women are the same ones who brag about their children, who are for all purposes NORMAL kids who are mostly bad like the rest, and kiss the teachers’ asses, oops, butts and fight for spots on the volunteer lists as to impress the entire room full of people.

    Now, unless I have a good reason to, like if they beg or its raining, or someones out of lunch money, I send my poor unfortunate children to school on the bus. Maybe its my desire to AVOID these women, bc I KNOW they will be lined up to drop off their perfect progeny, probably all dressed make up and perfect still at 7:30 am, while I am either in my pj’s with coffee in my hand, or still lookin crappy, hair crammed in a pony tail and no makeup, in my gym clothes, still with coffee in my hand. These women smile at you while they try to run over you in the line. Its kind of funny.
    One day, perhaps, I will jump out of my car and beat somebody up. Nah, its not necessary. I’ll just mess up their hair and make off with their Claire’s boutique pearls……

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s