The Crossing

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. I wanted to let all my frustration out in that moment. I didn’t do that though. I could not give in to temptation. Instead, I spread my arms in incredulity at the driver as they sped past me, waving their hand at me in a move that was supposed to appease me or apologize for their reckless action.

I then made sure that no other driver was going to follow the example set by the guy who sped past me. Seeing that they had all come to a stop, I turned to look back at the gathering crowd at the side of the road and blew the whistle. Two sharp beeeep beeeep and a dad who had parked a few car lengths away from the crossing rushed across, heading towards the school while from the school side a collection of mums, dads and children made their way across with a chorus of ‘thank yous’ and ‘have a good afternoons.’

With cars backing up and the next group still not at the crossing, I hefted up the long, unwieldy stick with its fluorescent orange circle at the top that was reminiscent of everyone’s least favourite lollipop, the orange one, and made my way back to the sidewalk to wait.

The burst of activity slowed to a trickle as children were hurried home by parents, eager to relax after long days at work. With no one crossing, I found myself constantly checking the time. Those last two or three minutes always seemed to drag as I waited until I could finally take down the flags that read ‘children crossing’ and returned the flags and lollipop stop pole to the school before heading home.

* 

The next morning it was much the same. By now I could recognize the regulars and as always we exchanged pleasantries. The kids excitedly trying to run across the road, only for me to remind them to walk. The man who lived directly across from the crossing came out to get his morning paper. We exchanged pleasantries as we did most mornings. Today, he had not compared me to the previous crossing supervisor. It’s not that I minded the comparison, I had only been in the job for a whole three weeks. I might one day resent it, but not now.

The stream of children started slowly. First the grade six girl I had dubbed ‘Smiley’ because every day that I saw her, she approached the crossing, a wide grin encompassing her young face as she began her school day. After her, a commuter on their way to the nearby train station and bus stops crossed over, taking the opportunity to cross without the dangers of traversing a busy road on their own.

As I went out the next time, sign held out before me to indicate my intentions, a blue sports car sped through the crossing, having to swerve around me to avoid hitting me. What was it with people? The only reason not to be able to stop is if you were either ignorant, stupid, going too fast in a school zone or any combination of the above.

“What is wrong with people?” A mum asked as she crossed with her twin girls, their matching hairdos, done up with large blue bows, waved to me as they passed.

I wished them a good day before looking back up at their mother. “I have no idea,” I said to her, and then to reminded myself to talk to the school receptionist about reminding students and parents to wait until I blew the whistle before crossing.

I smiled when next the boy who seemed to always run up the sidewalk towards me as though he was an anime hero approached. He too seemed to always enjoy going to school. He slowed to walk as he went across the crossing, stopping to wave at me from the other side, before running for the school gates. 

The morning ended with the usual dribble of kids and parents rushing to make the gates as the bell rang and one more that would most definitely be heading to office for a late pass. I pulled down the bright orange flags, grabbed my big lollipop and headed into the school to drop them off in the office store room.

“See you this afternoon!” I called to the receptionist on my way out. She called back to me and I was gone.

*

The afternoon went much the same as the morning, except from the school side of the road. The biggest difference was that parents would cross over before the final bell of the day rang from the far side. Most of them were regulars for me by now. They said hi as they passed and the mum of the young twins even talked to me as she crossed the road towards the school.

“At least no one’s tried to run you over yet,” she said jokingly as she inspected the cars, stopped on either side of us.

It was true, that afternoon, no one had driven through the crossing while I was almost in the middle so far. I nodded. “That is true! Not yet anyway!”

“I mean, how big does your sign need to be? Can it be any clearer that they need to stop?” she continued. I laughed as she waited on the school side of the road for me to come back in after her “and you would think that if they pass this way regularly that you would know about the school zone right?”

I nodded in full agreement. “You would think so,” I said as she passed by me. “See you in a bit.” 

Always one of the first to arrive in the morning, ‘Smiley’ was also one of the first to leave school in the afternoon, generally with a friend who she goofed off with for the walk home.

“She’s gone crazy!” the boy declared.

I laughed at their antics as they passed me by, assuring me that no, they were not friends and in fact, hated one another. I doubted that sincerely, but whatever made them happy.

The shift continued easily, crossing parents and kids. Most of the drivers were good and stopped at the appropriate times, but several came to such startling halts mere centimetres from the lines of the crossing, that you just knew that they were driving faster than the signed school zone speed limits.

The children were all really good and their parents, presumably a little out of practice regarding school crossing rules after a year of global events that had resulted in all schools in our region being closed and education moving online, were getting better at waiting for the instruction to cross. It was general pedestrians, long out of school and likely not having to do a regular walk to school with their own children, who would constantly insist on crossing as I was. I would turn, ready to blow my whistle and there they would be, right beside me, ensuring that I felt stupid as I inevitably blew the whistle. How hard was it to figure out ‘don’t go there’ until you’re told?

It came to a head when young one mother, her grade one child and a baby in the stroller were waiting beside me for a break in traffic that would allow cars on both side sufficient time to stop, while also no impeding the movement of trucks and busses. I found my moment and stepped out. Being one of the good ones, the mother waited. I walked out, the long lollipop stick with it’s fluorescent orange disc at the top and the bold, black letters spelling STOP, held out before me. The street was a long one, with one end extending far into the horizon, but we were situated near one end, with a roundabout, maybe a hundred meters away. Not really far enough for anyone coming from that direction to be an issue, but I had found that I should never assume and this was one of those times.

A car, that had not even been approaching as I stepped out into the road came barreling towards me. It passed by me so fast that I felt the breeze left by its wake ruffle my clothes and hair. This one, had not even bothered to try and swerve around me. And there was no, intrinsically annoying little wave that was supposed to convey “so sorry I didn’t see you there, but I’m a moron driver who has no idea about the state road laws regarding school zones.” Rattled by the close call, I turned back to the curb and blew the whistle, all the other cars stopped around me.

“What was that?” the mum asked me as her daughter said think you and I wished her a good evening.

I looked up at her and shook my head. “No idea… Way too fast for a school zone though…”

I had to admit, that one had been close, and I hated the way my heart raced with anxiety as I watched them reach the opposite curb. I shook my head, made sure no one else was trying to get across and went back to my side. It was all I could do without a number plate after all.

There was always at least one. Without fail, in every shift, someone sped through. Some honestly made a mistake, others never even seemed to realize what they had done and others still had the good conscience to at least look ashamed at their mistakes. They were the reason people crossing before my say so made me so nervous. It was my job to get people from one side of the road to the other in one piece and foolish people, both walkers and drivers seemed intent on doing whatever they please despite these road laws being present for as long as I could remember.

I heaved a sigh as I stepped out once more, the car on the far side speeding through despite having had plenty of warning of my presence… If he had been taking notice of the road before him. I scowled and because I could, I lowered the lollipop stick. He was close enough to me that the hard, sharp edges of orange, metal disc scratched his car.

The driver looked irate, but I held very little care for the way he felt at that moment. He stuck his head out the car, ready to yell me, but something must have caught his attention, because after flashing me the bird with his hand, he sped off. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a couple of older, grade six kids and a high school student who regularly passed through my crossing after coming home via the train with their phones out. I had no idea if they were recording or not, but the threat of them doing so was there. I shrugged and with the traffic on either side stopped, blew the whistle, allowing the only people allowed in that part of the road at that time, to cross safely.