The Children's Drive-In
Everyone knows and often appreciates the principle of the “drive-in,” also called the “drive-thru,” which is practical for buying a hamburger, withdrawing money from the bank or picking up medicine from the pharmacy without leaving the comfort of your car. You come to the first window and place an order, then roll to a second window to pick up your merchandise. But do you know that the drive-in is also used in American schools or children’s camps under the more pleasant name “Kiss and Ride”?
At the YMCA in our neighborhood, which offers sports camps for children between the ages of four and 12, the “Kiss and Ride” has one get in line each morning in a traffic jam of moms and dads in a hurry to get rid of their offspring. The camp staff open the back doors, unbuckle the little passengers and accompany them to their group, while the parent has to do nothing but sign an attendance sheet. Generally all this happens without a problem, the children having understood for a long time that it wasn’t worth it to linger with a parent who is grasping onto his or her steering wheel, impatient to get to the office. The only children who pose a problem are generally ones who have just come to the United States, who don’t yet know that the “kiss” should remain purely virtual and who think they aren’t allowed to exit the car until the last kiss has been given.
At night, it’s the same thing in reverse. You line up in traffic and roll down the window to hold out a “voucher” bearing the desired child’s name, who a squad of personnel then hastens to find, without forgetting their schoolbag and lunchbox, if possible. Very convenient for the parents — who again are encouraged not to get out of the car and to keep their greetings short so as not to hold up the line behind them. On the other hand, it’s impossible to exchange more than a word with the staff and ask them if their little one put his head underwater in the swimming pool like he promised. In the worst case, the kids wait nearly an hour for the line of cars to bring forth the one that they’re watching out for. On good weather days, the children sit on the lawn, where they watch the carousel, their noses just above the cars’ tailpipes. From afar, it looks like a children’s carnival: dozens of tired little heads, watched by camp staff playing the role of entertainers. If it rains, the children are confined to the gymnasium, arranged in rows so as to find them as quickly as possible when their name is called.
This practice is also very widespread in many American schools and even formulated, as one can see in the “Kiss and Ride” guide designed for parents in the public schools of Fairfax County in Virginia. It explains how to pick up and drop off children in a manner that is safe and efficient — by keeping goodbyes brief.
At the YMCA in our neighborhood, which offers sports camps for children between the ages of four and 12, the “Kiss and Ride” has one get in line each morning in a traffic jam of moms and dads in a hurry to get rid of their offspring. The camp staff open the back doors, unbuckle the little passengers and accompany them to their group, while the parent has to do nothing but sign an attendance sheet. Generally all this happens without a problem, the children having understood for a long time that it wasn’t worth it to linger with a parent who is grasping onto his or her steering wheel, impatient to get to the office. The only children who pose a problem are generally ones who have just come to the United States, who don’t yet know that the “kiss” should remain purely virtual and who think they aren’t allowed to exit the car until the last kiss has been given.
At night, it’s the same thing in reverse. You line up in traffic and roll down the window to hold out a “voucher” bearing the desired child’s name, who a squad of personnel then hastens to find, without forgetting their schoolbag and lunchbox, if possible. Very convenient for the parents — who again are encouraged not to get out of the car and to keep their greetings short so as not to hold up the line behind them. On the other hand, it’s impossible to exchange more than a word with the staff and ask them if their little one put his head underwater in the swimming pool like he promised. In the worst case, the kids wait nearly an hour for the line of cars to bring forth the one that they’re watching out for. On good weather days, the children sit on the lawn, where they watch the carousel, their noses just above the cars’ tailpipes. From afar, it looks like a children’s carnival: dozens of tired little heads, watched by camp staff playing the role of entertainers. If it rains, the children are confined to the gymnasium, arranged in rows so as to find them as quickly as possible when their name is called.
This practice is also very widespread in many American schools and even formulated, as one can see in the “Kiss and Ride” guide designed for parents in the public schools of Fairfax County in Virginia. It explains how to pick up and drop off children in a manner that is safe and efficient — by keeping goodbyes brief.