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October 23, 2019
Photo from Flickr.

My children go to two different schools. Both schools have parent volunteers that man/woman the carpool line in the morning. What that means is that parents are the traffic controllers of the carpool line.  

One school that my kids go to is an older school.  They have it down pat. There are typically 2 parents on that line, a parent at the front of the line, one at the end.  Sometimes there is only one person on duty.

The other school that my kids go to, is a new school. It also happens to be located in a tight spot traffic wise. They are not quite efficient yet with the carpool line. Every morning there are 5 to 7 parents controlling traffic, opening the door for kids, making sure that everything is running smoothly. It is a bit overbearing. 

The girls in the carpool in my car, aren’t so happy that someone opens the door for them. They feel like it is babyish, which I understand. Of course, both of these carpool lines make me feel extremely guilty that I don’t volunteer for either. 

As the Advot Project expands, I am invited to visit new locations and assess their compatibility for our program. I was driving to check out a new location at a school where we are exploring implementing an after-school program. It was 3 PM. Kids were everywhere crossing the street, on the street, on the sidewalk. Lots of cars were honking. 

It was incredibly chaotic. I realized that school had just let out. I looked around to see if I could find someone directing or watching the traffic. It struck me that there was not one teacher or parent. Nobody in sight. There was no carpool line. I know, it’s not that the parents don’t care. It’s just not what they do or can do. 

I think of all those parents ushering my child into school, and I recognize the privilege of a carpool line. 

I think of the privilege of carpool, period. 

Truth is, driving carpool is absolutely one of my favorite mom tasks. We have the most adorable, funny, and important conversations in the car. We talk about life and about family vacations. Sometimes I just listen, and they talk. It helps that the girl who is in our carpool is incredibly sweet. I absolutely adore her and her family. I love hearing about the kids’ day, and their ridiculous convictions and commentary about their teachers. I love the sound of giggling about this or that. I truly see it as a privilege, a huge privilege.

We listen to music that we have downloaded onto Spotify. 

We have a comfortable car with seat warmers. 

The youth I work with would say that we are very “bourgie” (short for bourgeoisie) even though my car is far from fancy.

On a particular outing that we took one of my groups, we divide the kids up. Some went in an Uber, others in my car and in a friend ‘s car who came to help out that day. The car ride to the theater was as much a part of the adventure as seeing the show in the beautiful theater we went to.

I took six kids in my van. There was laughing, there was singing, there is crazy music on the radio. There was simplicity and there was joy. One of the kids said, “Damn, Ms., I wish you were my driver every day! It’s so much better than the bus!”

The kids I work with live in dangerous neighborhoods infested with gang activity, drugs, pimps and sex trafficking. Believe me, there is no one watching their carpool line to and from school. There are days I am amazed they make it to school at all.  There are so many distractions luring them away from their path.

I drive my children to school because I support their education and all I want is for them to thrive and be happy. I don’t think the mothers of the kids I work with want anything less for their children. Their reality just doesn’t allow them to do simple things.

I am the executor of my children’s privilege. It is part of my job as their mom. I marvel at the privilege I have to give my kids the things I do.
It is our job to figure out how to give some of that privilege to those who don’t have it.
How can we provide a carpool line for them, ushering them to places they need to get to in their life so that they are not so alone?
“Ms.” She looks at me.
“Do you drive like this with your kids?”
“Yup,” I say.  “Every morning.”
“They are lucky,” she says and is very quiet.
“How do you get to school?” I ask her.
“I take the bus – actually, I need to take two.”
I think to myself, If my kids had to do that, they would not get out of bed.
“It’s okay,” she says.
“I read on the bus.”
“That’s great!” I say, thinking, okay we need to get this kid a Kindle, because, our job, I repeat, is to bring privilege to those who don’t have it.
“You know, Ms., when I have kids, I hope I can drive them around to places.
I have watched the girls I work with become moms at an age when they need their own moms. I watch them plow through their circumstances trying so hard just to survive. I know they have few role models and the privilege that I feel so often seldom comes to give them a break.

And then this sweet, sweet, smart girl of mine looks at me and says, “Actually I will aim high like you tell us to, Ms. I want my kids to have a person that drives them around in a limo.” She starts to laugh. “I’m gonna have them be like J Lo or Beyoncé, but I will also make them ride the bus ‘cause that’s important. You know, Ms., I read a book about a kid who had to walk 25 miles to get to school. I think they live someplace in Africa. Damn!  I’m lucky to have the bus even if it is a pain in the ass.”

She is lucky to have a bus. I am lucky to have a carpool line. Even if it gets on my nerves sometimes. We all have luck in our lives.
Or at least, moments of luck.
Our job is to remind ourselves, especially when we feel oh so unlucky, of what we have.
And then?  Well then, we need to find a way to pass it on to someone else.

You can, and always should try to pass it on, because passing it on and giving, is truly privilege at its best.


Naomi Ackerman is a Mom, activist, writer, performer, and the founder and executive Director ot The Advot (ripple )Project a registered 501(c)3 that uses theatre and the arts to empower youth at risk to live their best life .

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