For many years, my children attended James Simons Montessori, a public school in downtown Charleston. (For those of you who aren’t local, it’s sort of near the cool-kids hangouts Leon’s Oyster Shed and Graft Wine Shop.) My husband often said that his favorite part of the day was walking our children to school. Not only did the walk mean more time with his daughters, but he also really enjoyed the community vibe at the “walker gate.”
The walker gate is where people arriving any way other than a vehicle enter school. Picture this: young children wobbling on balance bikes, confident kindergarteners plowing past on scooters, older kids back-pedaling on mountain bikes, and parents pushing strollers with one hand and sipping coffee from a tumbler with the other. The whole morning felt wonderfully like Sesame Street.
Except for the cars.
There is another entry point for the school for those who arrive by car. It’s on the other side of the campus, off Huger Street. Yet a handful of car commuters repeatedly dropped their kids off at the walker gate. I understand why: the car-rider line takes longer. It’s a one lane, one-way loop. When there are cars, there are lines. And just sitting there, inching forward in your car while the seconds tick away, is frustrating. It’s natural to want to break free. By breaking the rules, a parent can shave off a few minutes each morning by pulling up to the walker gate. And when they did, drop off was a breeze!
But these drivers were inadvertently putting the parents and children who use the walker gate at risk. People on the street who are not inside cars are vulnerable road users. They are not protected by the metal body of the car. It’s a deadly situation, and it’s a real problem where we live. Did you know that Charleston is the 12th deadliest metro area for pedestrians in the country?
At the time, I didn’t know the statistic either, but it wasn’t hard to see the potential danger that occurs when mixing kids on razor scooters with a car commuter who is up against a 7:40 school-start time.
I reached out to school officials, who promptly reminded the community of its car-rider policy in an email.
As you can imagine, the email had little effect. The same parents continued whipping their cars past little kids with shark fin bike helmets and parents kissing their children goodbye.
I bugged the administration again.
Soon, the school police was stationed at the walker gate every morning. Finally! A win! But those same drivers were still whipping by, all while the school police officer sat in his car.
I was fuming. I wanted to knock on his window and tell him to ticket the offender. I even thought about making signs myself, holding a poster high above my head that read: “for the safety of our children, cars must use the car rider line!”
But here’s the dilemma: this is my community, too. Some of those repeat offenders were acquaintances, even friends. As much as I care about safety, I also care about keeping the peace.
And maybe that’s the crux of all of this: socially, cars are accepted as the norm. I am asking my community to go against a cultural norm. That creates social friction. I hate social friction. So, I shrugged, told myself I tried my best, and moved on.
The following year, our younger daughter followed our older one, moving from James Simons to Buist Academy, a county wide magnet located on Calhoun Street in downtown Charleston. We were no longer walking our children to school. Sending them on the bus was an option, but the bus was notoriously unreliable. (Charleston’s city buses have no priority over regular traffic, so it’s nearly impossible for them to be reliable). I was now driving a carpool. Each child in the carpool owned a bike and was able-bodied and their school was only two miles from our homes, but we carpooled because sending them off on two wheels to battlefield the Charleston traffic felt like child abuse. It was just too dangerous.
I’ll never forget the first morning last year when it was my turn to drive carpool. While waiting at the intersection of Rutledge Avenue and Moultrie Street (where the James Simons walker gate is), I saw that the entire street to the walker gate at James Simons had been blocked off.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Children zoomed on scooters, cutting figure eights with their friends. Parents tossed their heads back in laughter, at ease knowing they didn’t have to watch their children at every second so as to prevent them from being flattened by a car. I was looking at a small sliver of paradise. It was even better than Sesame Street. And there I was, slouched in my idling car, dumbstruck.
I do not know what the school did to take back that street for walkers, the bikers, the kids on scooters and the babies in the strollers, but it took guts. I have always loved James Simons Montessori, so it was hard to leave when my children decided to try a new school. But now, since my children both lost their seats at Buist (a magnet school) to come with me to Ghent, we will return to James Simons in January 2027.
It will be an honor.
It will be an honor to have you back at JSM 💜
This brings tears to my eyes, Gervais!! Also wanted to add a side note to the frustration over the prior lack of intervention. There was one specific day where a fellow James Simons parent zoomed down Homel place, the little alley we call the shortcut. I heard the sound of an engine not far behind me, when I turned to look and thankfully was able to pull August (then 5) out of the way in time. Stinson and I were extremely shaken by the incident. I’m sure expletives were yelled while we were still comforting August and Theo. That street is barely wide enough for a golf cart, let alone a massive, speeding SUV. After the parent dropped of their child in front of the walker gate and sped off, I spoke with the administrative members at the school, other parents, and a police officer. Everyone knew of the parent. The police officer knew exactly who I was talking about before I finished my sentence. I told him what happened, to which I was told they could do nothing without seeing a traffic infraction happen in real time. To make matters worse, I learned the child of this patent was in August’s same class. We were furious. But other than another warning email issued by the school about the walker gate rules, nothing could be done. I still occasionally see the parent speeding down king street to do a curb side drop off, but now, because of the road barriers and traffic guards stationed at either end of Moultrie, the parent is physically blocked from endangering children and parents alike. I’m not sure what action finally resulted in the road barriers, but the magic of a safe walker gate drop off has returned, and we can’t wait see you there every morning when you return!! James Simons will be so lucky to have y’all back.