There were two coveted positions in the elementary school hierarchy. Well, three, if you included being an office assistant. I didn’t have the right plumbing to work there, though I often wished I had, since they got to play with the mimeograph machine and other high tech equipment.
As noted elsewhere, I did score a library assistant position. No big surprise there, really, as I was a real bookworm and a bit of a geek back then. OK, so nothing has really changed.
The only thing left to grace the flourishing resume of my youth was to be a member of the school patrol. Today, they don’t let elementary school kids do patrol, at least not without some adult supervision. More often than not, if I see patrol on patrol, there is a grown up with them, ensuring that they do it safely.
Me? I took the job very seriously. Or should I say, I would have taken the job very seriously. I was not selected to be on the school patrol. I think I was the only person in fifth grade not selected.
It was a heartbreaker. Even my girlfriend Karen Teichrow and my good friend John Rohde made the cut. In fact, they were both officers. Funny, since John went on to being a real police officer in Bellevue. I guess he liked being the patrol gig – a lot!
Eventually, the patrol gods smiled on me. It seems that some of the regular patrollers were slackers, not always showing up for their shifts. As a result, Mr. Galvin cast about for substitutes.
Being about the only person in the entire school that wasn’t on patrol, I got the call. As you can see by the official photo, I made the Kennydale Elementary School Patrol. Oh yeah, baby. There’s me in the back row. Fourth from the left, right between two dead guys.
I didn’t stay a sub for long. I quickly rose through the ranks, largely I think because some of these kids moved that year. I finally landed the role of full time kindergarten patrol.
A big responsibility, I know. I had the west run, one that took the kids over the 30th St. bridge and into Kennydale proper. I remember my first day on patrol like it was yesterday. I put on my florescent orange vest and helmet and pulled one of the flags from the closet. I dashed upstairs and out the door. The bell rang and out came all these wide eyed moppets to meet Mr. Patrolman.
I got all the kids dutifully in line and started off across the playground, me in the lead. I stopped the kids at the freeway exit, crossed, then lowered my flag. My co-patrolman did the same. The moppets crossed. We then headed across the bridge.
This is where the whole patrol thing got a little trippy. I was in full command now, leading them across the bridge. I turned to see if all the moppets were still in a neat little line behind me. It was then that the one end of my flag got caught in the railing on the one side, and the protective barrier on the traffic side. I went right over it, ass over tea kettle as they say, landing flat on my face on the sidewalk. The moppets burst out in laughter.
Story of my life. I picked myself slowly off the pavement, adjusted my helmet, which had fallen over my face and retrieved the last shred of decency I had left. I then marched the kids off and across the last two crossings without saying a word.
I loved patrol. First, I got out of class to do it. What kid didn’t like that? Yes, it had its downsides. As we know, the weather around Seattle can turn frightful. Not long after the tripping incident, the weather turned stormy. As always I marshaled the kids after the bell rang. I blew the whistle, but none of the kids emerged from beneath the cover.
I said, “Come on, nothing to be frightened about. It’s just a typical day here.” I turned and started across the playground, just as I always had. And then the lightning bolt hit. It was one of those see light, hear thunder at the same time kind of hits. It was damned close. And here I am holding a flag on a metal pole. I leaped into the air, screamed like a little girl and dashed for cover. It’s probably the fastest I’ve ever run in my life.
Patrol wasn’t all fun and games, you know. I took it upon myself one time to break up a major crime ring at the new 7-11 that had opened up on the way home from school. By now I was handling the regular patrol assignments, and there had been a string of shoplifting incidents at the store.
One day I decided to catch the kid or kids red handed. I hid in the store, with a good view of the candy aisle. Being young, I really didn’t realize that I had absolutely no chance of catching the candy-napper. I had forgotten one small detail. Well two, actually. One was the fact that I was still wearing my florescent orange vest and second, the store had one of those big parabolic mirrors in the corner. There I was, “hidden” out of sight, but only in my own mind. All the kids could see me the moment they walked into the store. The jig was up without me ever knowing it.
And so ended my life in law enforcement. I ended up becoming a pirate instead, walking the fine line between what is legal and what’s not, avoiding the John Rohdes on the streets where I live, hiding in the shadows of society, this time without the day-glo vest. I do confess, however, that I dearly miss my STOP flag though. I can’t help but think how much fun it would be for a pirate to run around in traffic with one of those in his hand. Oh, the mischief I could make, as long as I didn’t have to cross the 30th Street bridge with it.
In the Emerald City, thinking my cul-de-sac needs a crossing guard,
– Robb