Breaking Child Labor Laws

I’m all for kids not working in sweat shops but there are some places where they should work.

Example? Safety patrol.

When I was in elementary school the fifth and sixth graders ran that operation. As I passed by them on the bus, I wondered how they kept it all straight. When do you tell cars to go? When do you tell people to go? What are the different hand signals? Aren’t you worried about getting run over? And where and how can I get my hands on one of those cool orange sashes?

You see I couldn’t be in the safety patrol. Only “walkers” and “riders” could do it. That meant you had to live in the neighborhood where the school was. I lived a short bus ride away so I got the safety shaft.

Here in Dallas we live right by an elementary school so we see walkers and riders every day. And starting yesterday they were back. And you know who else was back in business? The 72-year-old crossing guards. Huh?

That’s right. No kids. In fact, they’re the opposite of kids. Don’t get me wrong. I like Carl. (Carl the Crossing Guard is what I’ve named him. We’ve never spoken; our relationship just involves a lot of waving and if the top on my Bug is down, the occasional, “Great weather we’re having, huh?”)

Carl’s post is closest to my house but there’s another dude—an older guy—on the other side. The other day I told Frank that school would be starting soon and we’d probably see them again. I said, “I wonder if they’ll switch sides this year.” And Frank said, “You mean there are two of them?” He only knew Carl. So yesterday as I drove by, my fear was confirmed. They had switched sides. I had the other, older guy! And get this: when I waved, he didn’t wave back! This is gonna be one long school year.

When I told Frank about the switcharoo he began sharing his own safety patrol saga. He was thrilled when he was chosen for the prestigious guard in fifth grade but then one day, a group of junior high kids came by and stole his flag. They started to run around, waving it and mocking Frank. Finally a car drove up and then they stopped. Frank said that the adults in the car asked him if he was okay. He still looked pretty shaken up by the whole thing.

I told him it’s probably because of him that kids aren’t in charge of safety patrol anymore. Maybe it should be called “Frank’s Law.” Well I think that law stinks. I don’t want to put Carl out of a job (does he get paid, ya think?) but the kids should really take back control.

Here is my message to the kids: Get out of the sweat shops and back onto the streets!