I haven't thought about Safety Town in years, but my Mom came to me in a dream the other night and gave me a gentle prompt to start writing again. She had insisted that I promise to continue to write even after she passed. The time without her has been difficult, but the good memories greatly outnumber the unpleasant ones. So, at her insistence, it is time to write again, and by her request, about Safety Town.
For those who do not know about Safety Town, it was, and apparently still is, a preschool program offered in many cities across the nation to introduce children to safety. Like me, it got its start in the Cleveland area. A Mansfield police officer, Frend Boals, started the program when a little girl was killed by an automobile on her first day of school. Mrs. Dorothy Chlad, a local nursery school teacher, then expanded the program and took it to a national level. She worked with pediatricians and child psychologists to identify that the concept of traffic is not understood by preschoolers. She found that physically they weren't tall enough to see what they need to, and their peripheral vision, eye/hand coordination, decision making, and depth perception, are not fully developed. Preschoolers also lack the ability to determine the direction of a horn sounding. For traffic safety, Safety Town teaches preschool walkers to stop at every curb, and get assistance from someone older when crossing the street. They try to have a 4 student to 1 instructor ratio, and teach through simulation. The program has expanded to include many aspects of safety, not just traffic.
As a preschooler, I remember my disappointment that none of the little shops and buildings opened. I was already good at the shopping part- Grandma Hull and Aunt Mae took Mom and I with them every day. At Safety Town, preschoolers were introduced to traffic lights and signs, and cross walks, and most importantly stopping at every curb. I may have still been trying the doorknobs on the buildings during the important lesson of getting someone older to assist you to cross the street. Sorry, Safety Town!
We used to tease Mom unmercifully about our baby books. Mine is several volumes, with so many entries, and in great detail. Colleen's is a bit more succinct and hits the high points. Karin's baby book reads more like modern texts, and years go by between entries. I also used to tease my sisters that it was because I was Mom's favorite. This was one of Mom's frequent jokes with us- to tell each of us that we were her favorite child, and tell us not to tell our siblings. She only said this in the presence of the other two, and loud enough that we all could hear it. She then moved on to the next child and told them the same thing, until all three of us knew we were her favorite. After each of her three favorite children having families and children of our own to care for, we are all in awe that she wrote anything at all. It is a nice memento having something in Mom's handwriting now. As you can see, I hurt my Mom's feelings so much by not saying good-bye on my first day of school, that she wrote about it twice. Sorry, Mom!
Trigger warning: here is where the story gets scary, but remember- it has a happy ending. Parents, and everyone else who has taken care of a five year old that they love, brace yourself. I apologize in advance.
We lived in suburban Parma, on Luelda Avenue and I went to Ridgebrook Elementary which was just a few blocks away on a suburban street as well. We had a crossing guard, Mrs. Ziegler, to escort us across the very scary and busy five-lane Ridge Road. I was in awe of her. She carried her own portable stop sign, and wore a hat like a policeman and also a long police-style coat. In the mornings and afternoons, she could stop all the busy cars hurrying by with that powerful red sign, and safely escort all of us children across. Even my mom listened to her. Mrs. Ziegler was impressed by my Safety Town knowledge. We admired each other.
After Scotty Joe's first day of school- I like it!
So while I was eager to try new things like school, it lasted for a whole afternoon, unlike Story Hour at the Library, or even Safety Town. I was very clever and other than a pesky problem with right and left, and my numbers, I was already better at the other skills than most of my classmates. I got bored quickly, and asked Poor Miss K and Mrs. Hoffman how long I had to stay at school. They said until my mom came and got me at the end of the day. I explained that wasn't what I meant- how long was kindergarten for, and school in general? They told me it was until summer, and for the next twelve years. I silently had an anxiety attack, all internalized, but it was a major shift. I had been at school a week now. I was done.
I knew it was important to my mom and dad that I liked school, so I didn't openly tell them that I no longer did. The turning point was the shock of finding out it was not a Scotty-Joe-centered world. My mom mentioned that Gramma Hull and Aunt Mae and even my own mother herself, were still going shopping while I was gone- wasting my time at this school-thing. I thought they sat there and waited for me to get home. This would not do.
I had determined that the teacher and aide, while nice, were not on my side. There was some outside recess time. I was a hyper kid anyway, so it was hard to keep track of me- I was all over the place and there was quite a crowd on the playground. I waited for a moment of adult distraction, and when someone skinned their knee, I slipped away. I cannot imagine the terror I caused the teachers when they realized that one of their charges was gone. Sorry, Miss Kartisek and Miss Hoffman!
I made it to Ridge Road with no problems, but UH-OH! Mrs. Ziegler was not there with her hat, coat and powerful red sign. The traffic was busy, as it always is there. I could see my house from the corner. I knew from Safety Town that you don't dart out into traffic without stopping at the curb, and that you look both ways, then walk slowly and carefully in the crosswalk while Mrs. Zielger held back the traffic. Unfortunately, there was no traffic light at this end of our street, so I waited until the road was almost clear for a moment and walked slowly across, even though my heart was racing. There were no squealing tires or honking horns, so I must have done it somewhat right.
I was expecting a hero's welcome when I got home, since I had now proven I had learned enough and would not need to be going back to this school-thing. My mom didn't cry easy, so I was shocked when she listened to my story and cried and told me how scared she was. No kidding. As an adult with children, nephews, nieces, grandchildren, and having been a teacher, I am absolutely terrified at any five year old, no matter how precocious, crossing such a big busy city road alone. Sorry again, Mom!
I didn't much care for being marched back to school and handed over to my frantic and frazzled teachers, who had also been crying. For the rest of the year, they were the most diligent wardens, and I believe the school put a new chain link fence up on the street side where I had made my escape. Scotty Joe was sentenced to twelve years, with only summers off for good behavior. My mom walked me to and from school every day with strict instructions to stay put until she came to get me. My biggest humiliation was facing the crossing guard that afternoon. When my mom told her, she did not cry, but she fanned herself with her power sign, and looked weak with fear for a moment. I had scared a steel-haired woman who walked out in front of trucks and cars. That certainly made the point of how dangerous it was. She made me promise to never do that again. Sorry, Mrs. Ziegler!
Most of all, thank you to Officer Boals, Mrs. Chlad, and to the Safety Town Program for teaching me enough to save my life!
