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Tim White gives a high-five while working as a crossing guard at Del Mar Elementary School. Photo by Clay Butler

I’m in Live Oak on the corner of 17th and Merrill waiting for Tim White, the crossing guard for Del Mar Elementary School, to begin his afternoon shift when a woman pulls up in a car and motions to him.

Tim jogs over to greet her, exchanges a few laughs and comes back with a big plate of banana bread, cookies and fudge.

"Is she the woman who brings you cookies?" I ask, referring to a conversation we had earlier.

"Nah, she’s a different one."

"Has this woman brought you cookies before?"

"Nope, and this is my third gift today," replies Tim.

It’s not your typical day for your average school crossing guard.

Then again, Tim White is not typical.

School lets out and small groups of children collect at the intersection.

With a big smile, Tim motions them to stay. He surveys the intersection like an eagle searching for prey, his smile disappearing for a moment.

Armed only with a tattered stop sign and a bright orange vest, Tim freezes the traffic, runs over to the kids, and jogs with them across the street.

"OK, let’s go! Andele! Andele!" exclaims Tim, the children gleefully joining in the fun.

Each child jumps up to give him the high-five. Big smiles, fun and safety. It’s all part of a day’s work for Tim White.

Tim was born in Del Rio, Texas, in 1965, but his father’s military career necessitated frequent moves, including two years spent in Portugal.

Upon graduating high school, he followed in his father’s footsteps and joined the Army. After two years as a cook and paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne, he moved back home to California, where he landed a temp job cleaning the roof of the Lucky’s warehouse in Vacaville.

It was a job that would change his life.

"I was sucking up garbage with these giant vacuums when I fell through a skylight," Tim recalls. "Forty-five feet straight down — face first.

"I smashed my frontal lobe. The strange thing was that I wasn’t scared when I fell. Perhaps it was all that jumping out of airplanes I did in the Army."

After his head trauma stabilized, the doctors realized that Tim had also fractured his hip in two places.

He still has the pins that held his hip together.

After rehab, he moved to Santa Cruz to take advantage of the disabled programs and classes at Cabrillo College.

His local employment career runs the gamut of service sector jobs. From cook at Dominican Oaks in 1988, to cook at Seafood Mama’s in 1990, to cafe worker at Surf Bowl in 1996, to his current job, starting in 1997, as a school crossing guard at Del Mar Elementary.

How do you make a living as a crossing guard in Santa Cruz?

"My settlement from the accident provides me with a monthly income for the rest of my life," Tim explains.

"It’s not much, but it’s just enough so I don’t have to work.

"But who wants to just sit around? I like to work, and my settlement allows me to work where I want."

Why a crossing guard?

"I’m here for the kids," he says. "It’s all about the kids. Plus, I was tired of cooking."

Watching Tim in action is an inspiration.

Redefining the art of pedestrian safety, he brings a passion and commitment to a job that most people would not take seriously.

The payoff is a genuine bond with the community. His off-beat style has become legendary, and his infectious, happy-go-lucky personality eventually overcomes even the most jaded observers.

There’s a mother of three who walks her children to school every day. The two oldest attend Del Mar, while the youngest rides in the stroller.

"The youngest in the stroller is so cute," Tim says. "She’ll be over a block away, and she’ll already have her hand up and ready to get high-fived."

In addition to crossing guard at Del Mar, Tim works yard duty on the playground and as the crossing guard at Shoreline Middle School down the street.

"The first year at Shoreline was tough," he says. "No one knew me, and some of the kids felt they were too old for a crossing guard.

"But this year there are kids from Del Mar who remember me, and most of the others realize I’m there to protect them, not give them a hard time."

I paid a visit to Sesario R. Escoto, principal of Del Mar Elementary, to learn more about Tim and his job.

"He’s always dancing around and giving the kids a big high-five," Sesario says. "He has so much energy. He also does a great Donald Duck impersonation that the younger ones just love."

Sesario’s voice becomes somber: "But we are desperate for another crossing guard. We really need two, but it’s a tough job to fill."

Sesario explains the details of the job: one hour in the morning, one hour in the afternoon, impatient commuters running the stop signs, high responsibility. He encapsulates the job as high-risk, low-pay.

"Some quit after only three days because they’re afraid of being hit by a car," he says.

Sensing a sympathetic ear, Sesario continues, "We also have two openings for instructional aids that have not been filled. This is the first year we have not been able fill them. If anyone’s interested, we can offer three and a half hours a day."

Back at the intersection, Tim is finishing up his afternoon shift when Morsidy Husin, manager of Ocean Terrace Apartments across the street, motions at him.

"Tim, come here, I need to talk to you."

Tim jogs across the street.

"I have a situation," Morsidy explains. "I was wondering if you could play Santa tonight at the children’s Christmas party. That guy who was supposed to come couldn’t make it. You’re so good with the children, I thought you would be the perfect choice to replace him.

"What time?’ asks Tim.

"Six, at the office."

"Hmmmm, I’m sure that would be fine, but I’ll have to talk to my wife first."

"Great! Thank you so much."

Morsidy shakes his hand and heads back to the office. Tim looks at me, shrugs his shoulders and flashes a big smile. Grabbing my camera, I thank him for his time and head back home.

It was not your typical day for your average school crossing guard. Then again, Tim White was not typical.

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