I suppose
that this is a typical dialogue between most teenagers and their parents at
some point in time. Having grown up in New York, my version of that
conversation entailed getting out the door and to the bus stop in time – only
it was my mother urging me to avoid the detention! So, I recognize that it was
ever thus. What troubles me about the particular scene which I encountered on a
certain Thursday morning was the SUV driver’s use of the car horn as an
instructional tool. I say “instructional” because I’ve noticed over my nearly
20 years living in Los Angeles that the car horn – initially designed as a
safety/warning device – appears to be more frequently used as a means of
informing someone else of their errant behavior behind the wheel of a car – an
electronic version of “You’re an idiot!” Don’t get me wrong – I spent a
significant chunk of my life in NYC – so I’m used to horns blaring. But, for
the most part, blaring horns were the provenance of taxi drivers, not SUV
drivers. Yes, any visitor to Manhattan will recall the incessant use of the car
horn; but, in general, their function is to alert another car driver that they
are dangerously close to another vehicle (or to point out that cutting off
another vehicle in order to make it through a changing stop light is a foolish
choice). So, from my perspective, a blaring horn ought to be for the purpose of
alerting another driver that an oncoming train is about to bring a life,
well-lived, to a premature end.
Not so in
Los Angeles.
I get how frustrating traffic congestion is here (it really
is worse than NYC). I get the frustration drivers experience when unexpected
events clog the freeways (I’ve had too many heart-thumping-just-in-time- to-get-on-my-plane-at-LAX
moments). What I don’t get is – other than providing an outlet for a person’s
frustration at losing control of one’s expected arrival time – why leaning on a
car horn is an acceptable response to the unexpected behavior of a complete
stranger who, undoubtedly, is making his/her own assumptions about what is
taking place at a particular moment. In my situation, I am ready to grant that
I may have misjudged the distance between me and the oncoming vehicle. If so, a
quick tap on the horn would (it seems to me) alert me to my error. A blaring
horn (it seems to me) is a statement about my poor driving skills (most of my
family and friends would agree) rather than a reminder to be more careful next
time, or a quick alert that I am too close to an oncoming vehicle. The blaring
horn, the rapid movement to circumnavigate my car and the immediate move to the
curb tells me that, not only have I inconvenienced the offended driver, but
that I needed to be taught a lesson.
Perhaps I
do – but I don’t think that responsibility should be held by any driver
(especially in LA!) who is irritated by my – seemingly – poor judgment in a
situation that transpired in less than two minutes. I especially don’t think
that responsibility should be shouldered by a harried parent who is anxiously
trying to ensure that the student passenger avoids being late for school.
Here’s why…
What’s
the worst that can happen … an afternoon detention that becomes an inconvenient
interruption into an already overscheduled day? Actually, that’s not the worst that can happen. The worst
that can happen is that a teenager learns that it is okay to vent anger at
strangers who may (or may not) have made a poor choice. We see too much of that
among our peers in today’s society. We
(perhaps) agree that everyone should exercise more patience, more tolerance
towards others. We worry about how to ensure that the next generation behaves
in a responsible manner with respect to situations that, inevitably, they will
not be able to control. But, what we don’t necessarily appreciate is that they
are watching us and watching how we react to unexpected situations. They learn
from us – without our ever noticing – that our reactions teach them how they
should react.
One of the most difficult
challenges I face in my role as a leader of the La Salle community is paying
attention to the fact that my every reaction is parsed for its significance to
those around me. I don’t always get it right – and my colleagues are there to
help me accept that. I can’t imagine how difficult it is for parents to endure
a lifetime of scrutiny. I only know that if we aren’t prepared to notice that
our reactions to unplanned disruptions to our routine have consequences beyond
the momentary annoyance, we run the risk of sending mixed signals to those for
whom we have the greatest hope will be able to move our fragmented world closer
to embracing the values of respect, tolerance and giving others the benefit of
the doubt.
I think we would all benefit from
putting the car horn on mute.
