The tone of my entire day is established at 3:00 in the afternoon.

It could start out with whiskers on kittens in brown paper packages tied up with string, but if car line at the elementary school doesn’t go smoothly, it quickly deteriorates into cat fights and vehicular homicide charges tied up in a restraining order.

I write this with a fair amount of trepidation, for my criticism is not directed at the school administration, nor the poor souls working outside in the 160 degree heat trying to explain the nuance between tailgating and leaving a berth long enough to land a 747 with road flares and steel-toed shoes. They are not the floats in this dyslexic Rose Bowl parade. No, it is addressed toward my fellow parental chauffeurs who missed the memo on how to drive in a straight line to pick up your kid in less than a fortnight.

I spend 6 ½ hours in car line every day, so I have a lot of time to spend observing. In fact, I have a lot of time to read, feed babies, call in to radio talk shows, crochet hub cap koozies, perfect yodeling, floss, check all of the car’s vital gauges and fluid levels; but mostly I observe.

We’ve been in school over a month now, so it’s no longer a Kodak moment. So unless that camera is being used to capture forensic evidence on my insurance claim for the 90 car pile up after the last car in line slipped on some oil on I-4, you need to retire the photography until the Christmas pageant.

I also don’t think you need to stow every flipping backpack, jacket and pencil before taking the emergency break off and continuing on our .4 mph trek through the parking lot. Some of these baggage loading procedures take longer than an oversold flight to the Betty Ford Clinic from LAX. By all means buckle your kids in, but the drug sniffing dogs and cabin pressure check is a bit much.

And I certainly miss my kids as much as the next mom who spent the six minutes in between the morning car line and the afternoon at the post office, grocery store, dry cleaners, and local hospital for elective surgery, but do you think before you plug in the cigarette lighter Samovar to catch up on the day over coffee, might you at least pull to side to let others pass?

Although I haven’t taken a staff survey, I can imagine that the teachers aren’t really prepared or interested in conducting a parent teacher conference at the height of elementary rush hour. Perhaps an appointment is warranted rather than plastering last week’s spelling test on the windshield for comment.

We go to a small, private school. I’m not sure what Jesus would do if faced with a car line, but I am pretty certain he wouldn’t tailgate nor cut off Peter in his jacked up H2.

So as not to sound completely negative, I do have some constructive suggestions to make the car line run smoother. Or at least more productively.

Since I have to stand for a couple of hours idly, why not employ some car washers to detail my car? I would gladly pay the surcharge. And all of those eighth graders in need of service hours surely could make Starbuck’s runs. And since I have to fill up with gas immediately before entering and soon upon exit, perhaps installing pumps by the swing set could be another fundraising source? Certainly more practical than peanut brittle.

I could go on, but my fingers are getting a little sore since I am texting this entire column from my cell phone, a coat hanger and a pirated Wi-Fi signal. Luckily, I’m only a couple of miles away from the first set of cones so the St. John’s wort I started from seed when I began is just about ready to harvest.

© 2007 Tracey Henry

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