Member-only story
A Different Kind of Violence
by Sonya Dickerson
This is a story about violence.
My own personal story begins years ago, with me about to be late for work…again. I had enough time to drop my daughter off at school before getting ready to do a fifteen-hour shift to drive a bus in the city of Chicago. I felt lucky to be able to help her get ready for school and drive her there. There weren’t many days that I could do this. I was gone before she got up and home by the time she was ready for bed.
Most parents get close on each other’s bumpers as we pull into the tight parking spaces designated for drop offs. There is very little room to pull out of a space, so most of us wait until the cars in front pull off so that we can pull off behind them. It is a streamlined system that keeps things moving so that parents further down can drop their children off at the front door.
However, this one woman didn’t move her vehicle right away. I watched as her dark headed grandson ran in between my car to the building as the bell rang. But she didn’t keep in tune with the unspoken agreement that you pull off when your child exits the car. Some gaze lovingly at their children as they wait for them to…
