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Safety Patrol

Richard K. Williams

    In New Jersey while attending elementary school, I had an honor bestowed upon me. I was selected to be a safety patrol officer. Included with this honor came the privilege to arrive at school early and stay late every day to assist the civilian students in crossing the streets surrounding the ancient fortress-like, red brick building, called Berkley school. My twelve-year-old mind excitedly raced with the possibilities. Ensuring student safety, stopping crime, I had visions of becoming like Sargent Joe Friday on Dragnet! A true force for safety, law, and order!
    Many students like me lived more than a few streets distant from the school. They had to cross other perilous roads unsupervised prior to ever reaching the four streets surrounding the actual school building. Having received nearly one hour of how to safely cross streets training, I was aware of the many dangers lurking at those suburban, small town, mean streets, and cross walks. This stimulated my concern for my fellow students. My worry was focused upon their being cast adrift walking from safe, warm homes, to face the peril of unsupervised street navigation. Prior to reaching the protection of the eight safety patrols. Posted at the corners within the block surrounding the school grounds.
    It occurred to me that the school administration and PTA were only concerned with students’ well-being within one street of the school. I cleverly surmised they believed that the stimulation of being so close to the bastion of state mandated confinement and forced social interaction, the students in their excitement to be inside the actual school building, would cause them to abandon any concern for caution and run headlong into oncoming traffic. I felt it was my sworn and sacred duty to protect those students.
    The incentive for my dedication to duty was a startling white, three-inch-wide canvas belt with attached sash. The belt encircled my non-existent hips while the sash boldly draped over my bony shoulder and diagonally across my scrawny chest. The crowning glory of this ensemble was a shiny steel badge pinned to the front of the sash at mid chest height.
    I proudly wore my beloved badge, belt, and sash which identified me as a safety patrol officer. I wore it every day, even after school around the house and yard. It was even more impressive looking when I wore it over my Boy Scout uniform! In retrospect this getup gave me the appearance of a no left turn sign with legs.
    Twice daily we safety patrols were dispatched in pairs to our respective intersections where we stood awaiting students’ arrivals. We would turn our backs to the approaching students and raise our arms to shoulder height. This being a clear indication to the approaching children that they were to wait in complete safety behind what I’m sure appeared to them as two idiots holding up their arms pretending to be striped turnstiles. Undaunted by our ridiculous appearance, my partner and I scanned the intersection for automobiles being operated in an erratic unsafe manner, or approaching the intersection at high speed. Once we had determined the roadway clear, we lowered our arms to allow the citizen students to cross the street.
    Dutiful law-abiding students would wait behind our scrawny barricade until we highly trained professionals were sure the crosswalk was not under attack and offered safe passage.
    However there was a scofflaw who would run up behind us and burst through our outstretched arms like an anxious cowboy crashing through the bat-wing doors of some frontier saloon. The first time this occurred my partner and I were appalled at this fellows’ blatant lack of personal safety and disrespect for authority. Then it began to happen more often. The trouble reached epic proportion when this outlaw gained followers; soon we had a half dozen rabble rousers regularly crashing our gates of public safety and sanity. Before our unbelieving eyes this fellow had become the Jessie James of safety patrol abuse!
    As their criminal behavior increased, we could only shout hollow impotent threats at their running backs! “Halt! You’re endangering yourselves! Stop right there! Freeze!” Finally in desperation, “I’m gonna tell!” All of our shouts harmlessly bounced off their running backs or were lost among their peals of laughter.
    Sadly, we realized that we had been given authority with no means to enforce it.
    So, I did what I considered had to be done under the circumstances. Taking my lead from my television mentor, sergeant Friday, I started a lone investigation into the activities of what I called “The Crashers Gang.” By clandestinely questioning students I gathered the names and classroom numbers of these outrageous scoff laws. I reported the findings of my sleuthing to the retirement age crossing guard responsible for the safety patrols. Included in my report were the names of each offender along with the various dates of offences committed. She in turn reported to the school principal who, rounded up the outlaws, and due to my sole testimony and accuracy of events, the principal metered out justice in the form of detention.
    After serving their sentence the convicts obtained release and were reintroduced into normal society. Rather than being repentant and vowing from this point forward to maintain solid citizenship or, offering me thanks for being concerned enough about their safety to do my job above and beyond the call of duty. They beat the crap out of me and threw my sash and badge up on the roof of the school.
    And that is why, I am not involved in law enforcement today.

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