The Unseen Heroes at Risk: Why Crossing Guards Deserve More Than Our Applause
There’s a haunting irony in the story of Bruce Morlack, the 74-year-old crossing guard who lost his life while saving two children in Burlington City. What makes this particularly fascinating is how his story isn’t just a tragedy—it’s a mirror reflecting a much larger, often ignored issue. Crossing guards, those fluorescent-vested sentinels of school zones, are increasingly becoming casualties of a system that undervalues their role and underestimates the dangers they face.
The Human Cost of a Thankless Job
Bruce Morlack wasn’t just a crossing guard; he was a harmonica-playing, joke-telling grandfather who treated his job with the seriousness of a mission. Personally, I think what’s most striking about his story is how it humanizes a role we often take for granted. These aren’t just faceless workers—they’re retirees, veterans, and community members who step into harm’s way every day. Yet, as the data shows, 19 crossing guards in New Jersey alone have died since 1993, with hundreds more injured. What many people don’t realize is that this isn’t just a local problem; it’s a national crisis. At least 230 crossing guards across 37 states have been struck by vehicles in the last decade, with nearly three dozen killed.
The Perfect Storm of Danger
What’s driving this alarming trend? From my perspective, it’s a combination of factors that have turned school zones into battlegrounds. Larger SUVs with high hoods and blind spots, distracted drivers, and a culture of impatience have created a perfect storm. One thing that immediately stands out is the sheer disrespect crossing guards face. Reports of verbal abuse, deliberate speeding, and near-misses are common. A crossing guard in Trenton shared that they’re often told to ‘get a real job.’ If you take a step back and think about it, this isn’t just about bad drivers—it’s about a societal devaluation of the people who protect our children.
Systemic Failures and Half-Measures
Here’s where it gets even more troubling: the response to these tragedies often feels like lip service. After Morlack’s death, the crosswalk where he was struck was removed, and a sign now warns pedestrians not to cross. While symbolic, it’s a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. The drivers responsible for his death received only traffic tickets and license suspensions—no criminal charges. This raises a deeper question: Why do we treat traffic violence with such leniency? A detail that I find especially interesting is that only New Jersey and Massachusetts actively track crossing guard safety. Everywhere else, it’s a data black hole.
What This Really Suggests
This isn’t just about crossing guards—it’s about our priorities as a society. We’re quick to applaud their heroism but slow to address the systemic issues that put them at risk. Sangeeta Badlani, whose son was killed by a driver, puts it bluntly: ‘We cannot continue to rely solely on crossing guards to compensate for dangerous driver behavior and unsafe roadway conditions.’ Personally, I think she’s onto something. We need to rethink street design, enforce lower speed limits, and invest in automated safety measures. But more than that, we need a cultural shift. Crossing guards aren’t just traffic controllers—they’re guardians. And guardians deserve more than our applause.
A Call to Action
Bruce Morlack’s daughter, Michelle, has turned her grief into advocacy, joining Families for Safe Streets. Her question lingers: ‘Why do we continue to call these accidents when they’re preventable?’ She’s right. The language we use matters. It shapes how we perceive these incidents and who we hold accountable. If we’re serious about protecting crossing guards—and by extension, our children—we need to stop treating these deaths as inevitable.
Final Thoughts
As I reflect on Morlack’s story, I’m reminded of the harmonica he played while waiting for kids to cross. It was a small act of joy in a job that demanded so much. Crossing guards like him don’t just guide children—they connect communities. Yet, we’ve failed to protect them in return. What this really suggests is that the problem isn’t just on our roads—it’s in our hearts. Until we value their lives as much as we value their service, tragedies like these will keep happening. And that’s a failure we can’t afford.
