Defying the crossing guards

If I had to describe myself with one word, it would most definitely have to be a compound word – strong-willed!

As you can plainly see, I can’t even follow my own guidelines to use a single word, because I am that stubborn; but at least I’m able to admit it, because that’s the first step on the road to recovery.

My mother tried to beat it out of me, but it didn’t take.

While being doggedly obstinate has been advantageous when it comes to dealing with the daily struggles of my disability, it has also caused me to become entangled in some very problematic predicaments which didn’t always work out to my benefit in the end.

The story you are about to read pertains to one such incident!

Upon moving to Ellwood City, Pennsylvania with my family as a mild-manner sixth grader, I was less than overjoyed about the thought of repeating my elementary education after attending Bentworth Middle School for nearly a year at our former residence in Bentleyville, Pa.; but, nonetheless, I decided to suck it up and enjoy my triumphant return to the top of the food chain for an additional three months.

However, I was extremely irritated about being forced to trek up the sidewalk to the intersection and traverse the pavement at the behest of the glorified crossing guards – who were actually sixth graders just like myself.

Considering the church parsonage was directly across the street from Northside Elementary School, I thought it was much more logical to take the quickest route – a straight line – to arrive at the aforementioned educational institution; because it made no sense to trudge all the way up the footpath only to have my steps retraced on the opposite side.

What do you expect from an avid jaywalker!

Due to the fact that North Street was a busy thoroughfare twice a day during the course of the school year, my overprotective mother was of the opinion that the group of conscientious safety officers was the best way to make it to our appointed destination in one piece.

That’s where Mom and I didn’t see eye to eye!

Just like Kevin McCallister in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, this rebel without a cause devised a similar battle plan to beat the adolescent traffic patrol at their own game; so, the very first thing on his seemingly well-thought-out agenda was to design a schematic drawing which featured several city blocks surrounding the primary school.

In an effort to avoid the would-be guardians of security enforcement with their Gestapo-like tactics, I plotted out a course through several connecting alleys – beginning with the one right next to our Cape Cod-style house – around the outside perimeter of the intersection in question; after which it would ultimately bring me to the playground behind the gargantuan red-brick building.

Shortly after taking another glance at the detailed blueprint prior to leaving the one-and-a-half-story dwelling with my blonde-haired sister, it was time to implement this conniving little miscreant’s ingenious master plan – Operation Sidestep – upon walking out the main entrance facing the painted asphalt was buzzing with activity.

“I left my math book upstairs,” I pretended to remember while looking down at the irritated second grader. “Since we’ve already started traipsing up the sidewalk, why don’t you go on ahead without me; so, then you’ll have plenty of time to talk to your little friends before the first bell rings.”

You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached!

After watching my sarcastic sibling amble up the cement pathway at a snail’s pace with her overstuffed backpack, I hightailed it back toward the one-and-a-half-story dwelling only to skirt around it to a nearly deserted alley to the south which ran parallel to our cinderblock outbuilding.

There was no turning back once this sneaky mischief-maker crossed over Orchard Avenue next to the church’s two rental properties by circumnavigating an entire city quarter block through the narrow passageway between tree-lined streets.

Following a leisurely walk past several garbage cans as well as one cantankerous poodle out for a morning constitutional with its owner, I arrived at the next alley intersection with a main thoroughfare – that just happened to be North Street – while keeping a sharp eye out for the power-hungry uniformed patrol prior to crossing over to the backside of Mr. and Mrs. Clarence E. Olinger’s residential property.

Thinking I had outsmarted the ever-vigilant safety patrol officers, this cocky whippersnapper completed the last leg of the roundabout journey as he gleefully approached the bustling playground before slithering through the basement entrance to the gymnasium and up two flights of stairs to the sixth grade classroom at the sound of the first bell.

How’d you get to school without crossing the intersection of North Street and Orchard Avenue?

Maybe because I crossed the junction of North Street and Hazel Avenue.

“No, you didn’t,” quipped Lori Knechtel upon removing her orange vest with reflectors. “When I spied you crossing the street up the hill by Jeff Olinger’s house, the other crossing guards tried to tell me that you were sick today; because your little sister came to school by herself.”

Now you’re going to be up the creek without a paddle!

Before getting an opportunity to refute her accusations any further, the overgrown giraffe marched up to the teacher’s desk to inform him of my total disregard for the traffic safety rules; whereupon I was given a form letter addressed to my parents which was to be signed and returned the following day.

Unfortunately for me, that wasn’t the end of the unbelievable story.

The very next day, this stubborn mule sat on the steps of the elementary school doing homework until the glorified crossing guards finished their afternoon duties; after which he traversed the painted asphalt directly in front of the church parsonage with the dark-haired brunette witnessing his willful act of disobedience from the dining room window.

Upon entering the three-bedroom house, I promptly received a good old-fashioned spanking prior to being sent to my sleeping quarters without an after-school snack.