The Police Pulled Me Over in the School Drop-Off Lane

I should have gotten a ticket. I didn’t. Should I be grateful?

What can I say? School starts too early.

Plus, we were out of coffee and my toddler had kept me up most of the night. My kindergartner was taking her time getting out of the door too.

I spent most of the drive going 5 mph under the speed limit. I looked in my review mirror and saw the consternation of the line of drivers behind me, and realized I had better get in gear.

So I sped up from 20 mph to 30 mph.

Phew, I thought. That must have been annoying.

That’s when I saw the police lights flashing.

I had increased my speed once I hit the school zone!

I slowed down, but kept driving. The cop car’s red lights still blinking.

The road had no shoulder and the school driveway was so close.

But then…

I didn’t park. That morning was a madhouse. We were a little parade of cars, with the police officer bringing up the rear.

I pulled into the drop-off lane. My kindergartner looked at me and asked, “What’s going on? Are you going to jail, mom?”

By this time, the police officer had walked around to the side of my car. My daughter was putting on her backpack. The car was idling. “I promise you I will not go to jail. I’ll see you after school. Now get inside before the late bell rings.”

As she walked towards the front door, she looked over her shoulder to see what was happening. She didn’t seem overly concerned.

I turned to the police officer. Cars were lining up behind us.

“Do you just mind if I park? I asked.

I pulled into the nearest parking spot, just as the late bell was ringing and as the rest of the cars dispersed.

He came back over and asked for my license.

I didn’t have it. I had left my purse at home. The police officer took in a big breath of air.

I started talking: “So, I’m really sorry. I don’t have any good excuses. I really deserve a ticket. It’s terrible to speed in a school zone.”

He stood there quietly for a moment.

“Drop off a copy of your license to the department later, and we’ll call it good.”

And we parted ways.

My White Privilege Served Me Well

What if I had been driving a beat-up jalopy instead of a newish SUV? What if I had dental work done the day before and my face was still swollen? The cop was incredibly gracious, but would it have been the same if I was a teen mom or black or brown or poor? What if I was a recovering addict with a record?

I’m a middle-class white mom.

But I’m no more deserving of grace than any other human.

I make mistakes all the time. I drive too fast through town. I forget to pay my bills on time. For reasons unknown to me, my only addiction appears to be coffee — but believe me, there have been lots of reasons to self-medicate along the way — it just never really stuck. I try hard to not pass judgement, but not because I’m a good person — because I’m scared of karma and have always paid a high price for my judgements.

I teach my white daughters to deal straight with authority. Don’t lie. Tell the truth. Be transparent. But if they were black, what more would I need to teach them?

In the past couple of years, a lot of stories have circulated about what black parents teach their kids about the police, like Annelise Lord’s article “A Few Things Every Black Mother Should Tell Their Sons When They Are Stopped by The Police.”

I handled the situation with the confidence that nothing that bad would happen to me — and it didn’t.

My husband shook his head when I told him and said with exasperation “You never get a ticket!”

Writing this, I want to go back in time and insist the officer give me a ticket, or ask him to extend the same understanding to the next mother or human he sees having a rough start to the day. I want to ask him to look past his own biases.

I want to believe that we are moving towards a world where the color of my skin doesn’t endow me with special powers to bend the rules. I want to break the unjust rules for other people. I want to acknowledge that I’m a part of this awful system too, not just a bystander.

It’s hard to see our own bias. I am grateful for the officer’s kindness.

I just wish I could believe that his leniency was applied equitably.

Thank you for reading!

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