The Somerset West School-Run

An Annual Report
The Motoring Desk rises early to investigate what happens to the roads between 7:15 and 7:50 on a weekday morning and what the children are learning from it

I want to be careful here. I am a father. Several of my closest friends are parents. I understand that getting children to school is not a simple undertaking, that mornings are chaotic and that the relationship between a parent and a parking space at 7:30am is one of the most emotionally charged dynamics in suburban life.

I say this so that what follows is understood in a spirit of empathy and not condemnation.

What is happening on the roads outside Somerset West schools between 7:15 and 7:50 on a weekday morning is, from a traffic management perspective, extraordinary.

THE GEOGRAPHY

For approximately thirty-five minutes each morning, certain roads in Somerset West undergo a transformation that urban planners have not named because they prefer not to think about it. A road that at 7:00am is a road becomes, by 7:20am, something closer to a loading bay, a social venue, a place for a brief catch-up about the weekend, a turning circle and a yield sign all at once, with several Fortuners in the middle of it.

The double-parking begins innocently. One parent stops briefly — indicators on, which as we have established means anything is permitted — and a child emerges from the vehicle at a pace that suggests they have not yet fully committed to the idea of school. A second parent pulls in behind the first. A third pulls in beside the second. Within four minutes, the left lane of the road has become a departure terminal serviced entirely by people who believe they will be gone before anyone notices.

They are not gone before anyone notices. There is a queue behind them stretching to the robot. The robot is on red. Everyone is noticing.

WHAT THE CHILDREN ARE LEARNING

We spent some time with this question and found it unsettling.

Between home and the school gate, on a typical Somerset West school-run morning, a child of seven or eight will observe: a U-turn on a solid white line, parking on a yellow line with hazards on, entry into an intersection on amber, a vehicle mounting the kerb briefly to pass a double-parked car and one adult making a hand gesture at another adult that is not covered in the K53 handbook.

They will then walk into school and be taught about rules.

We do not suggest that parents are bad people or bad drivers. We suggest only that the school-run is a pressure situation and that pressure situations reveal our authentic relationship with road rules, which is, broadly speaking: guidelines.

THE EXCEPTION

It should be noted that there is always one parent at every school who handles the drop-off with extraordinary efficiency. They pull up cleanly, the child is ready, the door opens and closes in a single fluid motion and the vehicle departs without drama, without delay and without mounting anything. This parent has their life together in ways the rest of us can only observe from a queue and admire.

We attempted to interview this parent. They were already gone.

CONCLUSION

The Somerset West school-run is not a traffic problem. It is a logistical challenge, a community ritual and, on its better mornings, an exercise in collective goodwill. Most parents are doing their best in a short window of time with a child who has lost a shoe.

We ask only for indicators. And perhaps a slightly faster exit from the vehicle by the child.

You have been standing at the gate for three minutes, young man. The shoe is on your foot.

The Helderburger Motoring Desk conducted this investigation in a 2014 Volkswagen Polo. No children were late for school as a result of our presence, though one was close.

THE HELDERBURGER
Motoring Desk

Kobus Liebenberg