Nothing could have prepared me for this ritual they call the school carpool line. It was long and slow and intimidating, and yet the well-oiled PTO had it running like a front-loading washing machine. Our car was fed into a carousel of other vehicles, each stopping at a different color-coded column as a woman on a bullhorn ordered cryptic commands to the teachers hovering over the mass of kids ready to depart. “Number 35, Kindergarten, to green. Number 48, Kindergarten, to Yellow.” As if by magic, my son appeared, standing at red just as I pulled up to him. An …read more