I have a new article up at DTMS! Please go check it out. Meanwhile...
To the Daycare Employees Who Pick Up Kids at My Son’s School:
Sorry. I didn’t know.
I do remember seeing a note early in the year about daycare parking, but I didn’t bring the map with me in the car. I think it’s great that you all have designated parking. You are tasked with delivering other people’s children to daycare after school. You should have safe parking. You should not have to shunt multiple kids blocks away or even across the street. I understand that you operate much in the same way as a school bus and deserve a similar level of access and respect.
I wasn’t trying to cause problems for you or undermine your authority in any way. Although I forgot to bring the map, I did expect to find copious signage noting your reserved parking area. I looked around for daycare parking and/or no parking signs. I didn’t see any from the space where I pulled to the curb and foolishly thought I had parked appropriately. Absence of evidence, and all that.
I hardly ever drive to school--this was only the third time I’ve driven in the 100 or so school days this year. The parking zones aren’t intuitive to me. I drove today because it was -10o F, and my toddler has bronchitis. And she started coughing the minute we stepped outside, so I put her in the warm car and drove. I arrived twenty minutes early in order to park where I could both meet my son at his exit door and keep an eye on my car and its precious, sleeping cargo.
As I drove in from the east, I watched carefully for parking zone signs. The only No Parking/Student Loading Zone sign I could see was the one where the buses park. So I parked well outside of the bus zone, behind the unmarked white minivan. From the back, this looked very much like a private car. I thought I had parked appropriately behind some other mom. Yes, there was a scrap paper tucked into the corner of the windshield with the name of a daycare clearly printed in 24-point Arial boldface font, but I noticed this much too late to make a difference in the outcome of the parking debacle.
As I watched the rest of you (many in discreetly-marked or un-marked family-style vans) pull in behind me, I could tell from your faces that I was committing some sort of monumental error. I just couldn’t quite figure out what I was doing wrong. I checked around again a couple more times for a designated parking sign, but couldn’t see any. I also scanned the curb looking for red or yellow paint. Unfortunately the white paint designating the daycare loading zone was indistinguishable from the snow on top of it. Not even the police officer who drove past noticed that I was improperly parked.
Seeing no visible indication that I was actually parked in the daycare loading zone, I assumed that I had unwittingly inserted myself into some sort of long-standing parent-parking social structure and decided to ignore you. I sat there, warmly idling in abject ignorance, for twenty minutes.
I’m not trying to deny that I am entirely to blame for this serious parking violation; however, twenty minutes is a lengthy span of time in which any one of you might have tapped on my window and let me know. I would have happily and apologetically taken one of the empty spots across the street--from there I would have still been able to both meet my son and allow my sick child to remain warm, asleep, and breathing well. There are any number of courteous ways one of you could have asked me to move. Giving me the stink-eye and expecting me to read your minds was an ineffective strategy.
So, a big thank you to the mom friend who told me I had improperly parked and then waited in the bitter cold with my son while I moved my car. Because, by the time I was finally aware of how horribly I had screwed up the parking, the bell was ringing. My son was walking outside at the very moment I was pulling away from the curb to park elsewhere.
Unfortunately, this left no time for the dude from the red van to move into his rightful place in the daycare queue, and the space I vacated remained empty thereafter. There were also no longer any parking places nearby for me to move my car into. Other parents had filled those while I spent my twenty minutes (in the red van’s spot) reading Egypt news on my phone.
After you all left, we drove around the school a few times so I could familiarize myself with parking demarcation. I didn’t see the daycare loading zone/no parking sign until the third lap because a large vehicle, quite possibly a daycare van, had been blocking it from my field of view as I drove past.
I am aware that ignorance is no excuse, but it really was an innocent mistake. Rest assured that the (anthropologically fascinating) social shaming and the punitive hassle of moving the car just as the bell rang and then walking the distance back to the school in bitter cold with a sick child was a very effective deterrent. It won’t happen again.
Red van dude: It. Won’t. Happen. Again.
Not by me, anyway.
However, some jerk of a grandma or some dad who doesn’t usually do the school run might easily make the same mistake. So to make amends, I am donating funds for an additional no parking sign. I think it should be placed on the southern brick wall facing the daycare parking so that it’s visible to drivers who are parked in the daycare parking area. I’m hopeful that if some other innocent blunders into one of your parking spots, she will find some clearly stated indication that this particular section of curb is reserved for you. The new signage should help. She will be very likely to move her car long before you are forced to narrow your eyes and furrow your brows at her.
If she is distracted and somehow fails to see the new sign, please, tap on her window. I’m certain she will vacate your parking space in far less time than it takes for you to walk past the hood of her car, enter the building, and notify school officials.
Again, sorry.
Sorry. I didn’t know.
I do remember seeing a note early in the year about daycare parking, but I didn’t bring the map with me in the car. I think it’s great that you all have designated parking. You are tasked with delivering other people’s children to daycare after school. You should have safe parking. You should not have to shunt multiple kids blocks away or even across the street. I understand that you operate much in the same way as a school bus and deserve a similar level of access and respect.
I wasn’t trying to cause problems for you or undermine your authority in any way. Although I forgot to bring the map, I did expect to find copious signage noting your reserved parking area. I looked around for daycare parking and/or no parking signs. I didn’t see any from the space where I pulled to the curb and foolishly thought I had parked appropriately. Absence of evidence, and all that.
I hardly ever drive to school--this was only the third time I’ve driven in the 100 or so school days this year. The parking zones aren’t intuitive to me. I drove today because it was -10o F, and my toddler has bronchitis. And she started coughing the minute we stepped outside, so I put her in the warm car and drove. I arrived twenty minutes early in order to park where I could both meet my son at his exit door and keep an eye on my car and its precious, sleeping cargo.
As I drove in from the east, I watched carefully for parking zone signs. The only No Parking/Student Loading Zone sign I could see was the one where the buses park. So I parked well outside of the bus zone, behind the unmarked white minivan. From the back, this looked very much like a private car. I thought I had parked appropriately behind some other mom. Yes, there was a scrap paper tucked into the corner of the windshield with the name of a daycare clearly printed in 24-point Arial boldface font, but I noticed this much too late to make a difference in the outcome of the parking debacle.
As I watched the rest of you (many in discreetly-marked or un-marked family-style vans) pull in behind me, I could tell from your faces that I was committing some sort of monumental error. I just couldn’t quite figure out what I was doing wrong. I checked around again a couple more times for a designated parking sign, but couldn’t see any. I also scanned the curb looking for red or yellow paint. Unfortunately the white paint designating the daycare loading zone was indistinguishable from the snow on top of it. Not even the police officer who drove past noticed that I was improperly parked.
Seeing no visible indication that I was actually parked in the daycare loading zone, I assumed that I had unwittingly inserted myself into some sort of long-standing parent-parking social structure and decided to ignore you. I sat there, warmly idling in abject ignorance, for twenty minutes.
I’m not trying to deny that I am entirely to blame for this serious parking violation; however, twenty minutes is a lengthy span of time in which any one of you might have tapped on my window and let me know. I would have happily and apologetically taken one of the empty spots across the street--from there I would have still been able to both meet my son and allow my sick child to remain warm, asleep, and breathing well. There are any number of courteous ways one of you could have asked me to move. Giving me the stink-eye and expecting me to read your minds was an ineffective strategy.
So, a big thank you to the mom friend who told me I had improperly parked and then waited in the bitter cold with my son while I moved my car. Because, by the time I was finally aware of how horribly I had screwed up the parking, the bell was ringing. My son was walking outside at the very moment I was pulling away from the curb to park elsewhere.
Unfortunately, this left no time for the dude from the red van to move into his rightful place in the daycare queue, and the space I vacated remained empty thereafter. There were also no longer any parking places nearby for me to move my car into. Other parents had filled those while I spent my twenty minutes (in the red van’s spot) reading Egypt news on my phone.
After you all left, we drove around the school a few times so I could familiarize myself with parking demarcation. I didn’t see the daycare loading zone/no parking sign until the third lap because a large vehicle, quite possibly a daycare van, had been blocking it from my field of view as I drove past.
I am aware that ignorance is no excuse, but it really was an innocent mistake. Rest assured that the (anthropologically fascinating) social shaming and the punitive hassle of moving the car just as the bell rang and then walking the distance back to the school in bitter cold with a sick child was a very effective deterrent. It won’t happen again.
Red van dude: It. Won’t. Happen. Again.
Not by me, anyway.
However, some jerk of a grandma or some dad who doesn’t usually do the school run might easily make the same mistake. So to make amends, I am donating funds for an additional no parking sign. I think it should be placed on the southern brick wall facing the daycare parking so that it’s visible to drivers who are parked in the daycare parking area. I’m hopeful that if some other innocent blunders into one of your parking spots, she will find some clearly stated indication that this particular section of curb is reserved for you. The new signage should help. She will be very likely to move her car long before you are forced to narrow your eyes and furrow your brows at her.
If she is distracted and somehow fails to see the new sign, please, tap on her window. I’m certain she will vacate your parking space in far less time than it takes for you to walk past the hood of her car, enter the building, and notify school officials.
Again, sorry.
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Nikki Stern
Greg Correll
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Comments
kh3333: I know...it was the juggernaut of bureaucracy!
Greg: It's also a text book example of how to write in "passive-aggressive voice..."