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Unsung cross guard focused on protecting Bonita children
AARON HALE / STAFF
Len Bellin directs traffic at the intersection of Terry Street and Old 41 Road in Bonita Springs
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The intersection of Terry Street and Old 41 can be a scary place at 9 o’clock on a weekday morning. Traffic backs up, drivers wait for the chance to scoot off to work. Meanwhile, many students at Bonita Middle School are making their way to school at that intersection by bike or by foot.
It takes a bold person to step out into that intersection, even when there is a protected crosswalk light.
But that’s what Len Bellin’s job is five days a week. He’s the school’s crossing guard assigned to the busy intersection. Wearing matching bright orange vest and gloves — not much protection from a moving car — Bellin unflinchingly steps into the intersection with a whistle in mouth to direct traffic and delivery student pedestrians safely to school.
Bellin, who has a tickling dry wit when he’s still standing on the corner, is all business when he’s out on the street.
“Mainly, I would say it’s important because it protects the kids,” says Bellin of his job.
The unfortunate thing is that most students don’t even know their crossing guard’s name.
When a group of students that just crossed the intersection with the crossing guard were asked what they thought of Len Bellin, the collective response was the question, “Who?”
Before Bellin’s arrival, there was a significant problem with accidents involving students at the intersection
Deputy Tracie Lodato of the Lee County Sheriff Office is the resource officer at Bonita Middle. She estimates that before the installation of a crossing guard, there were several incidents every year in which students were hit by cars.
Samantha Zobatt, a junior at Estero High School, says she remembers what the intersection was like for middle school pedestrians before Bellin’s came.
“Before he came, it was a life and death battle to cross. It was every man for himself,” says Samantha Zobatt, 16.
Bellin is now in his third year service as the crossing guard. Under his tenure no students have been hit by a vehicle at that intersection.
So how does one become a crossing guard protecting America’s future?
Says Bellin, “Basically, I wanted something to do in retirement.”
Bellin, 82, was labor negotiator in California. When he retired, he and his wife could no longer afford to live in their house, so they moved to Southwest Florida. Through a friend working in the Lee County Sheriff’s Department, Bellin was able to land the job.
“It worked out great for me,” he says.
Every school day morning, rain or shine, Bellin drives to the 7-Eleven on the corner of his intersection, where he has a deal with management to park there. He directs traffic for the students, who come in small groups to walk to school for about an hour and 15 minutes. He then goes home, eats lunch and doed “whatever I have to do” in the afternoon for another 45 minutes.
Monday, Aug. 18, the first day of classes for Lee County Schools, Bellin is curious to see who he’s protecting this year.
“It’s always interesting on the first day of school to see who comes back and who doesn’t,” says Bellin. “A few you hope don’t.”
Bellin explains that while many students are polite and follow his direction, a few students ignore him and recklessly forge across the street.
When Bellin has repeat problems with a student, he reports it to Deputy Lodato.
Lodato says she appreciates Bellin’s involvement.
“He cares specifically about every single kid,” she says.
Mornings are actually slow for Bellin, despite the busy car traffic. Students arrive at the intersection sporadically. Bellin calls the last 30 minutes of morning shift “the most boring in the world.”
But during his second shift, after school lets out, he gets dozens of students coming almost all at once.
“In the afternoon it’s a madhouse. I have 30 kids sitting on the corner — the girls screaming at the top of their lungs about to blow my hearing aid out,” Bellin says, almost as a bemused observation rather than a complaint.
If he ever gets annoyed, he doesn’t show it. Bellin blows off most inconveniences with a light sarcastic remark.
After a week of being dumped on by the remnants of Tropical Storm Fay, Bellin quipped, “I don’t know how to act in dry clothes.”
The grin under his tin gray moustache is infectious. However, the students seem oblivious to Bellin’s jokes.
When most of the school’s pedestrians arrive at an intersection to cross, they socialize with friends or stare silently ahead if alone. Few say anything to Bellin.
Though many of the middle school students see Bellin every day, few if any, know anything about him.
“He’s old,” offered one student as his only piece of knowledge of Bellin.
Eighth-grader James Anders says his communication with Bellin is limited.
“He whistles and he makes hand signs,” says Anders, before adding. “He does say, ‘Good morning.’”
Says Bellin, “For all intents and purposes, there’s no conversation. I say good morning, no response. I say good afternoon, no response.”
Bellin admits that he’s frustrated by the lack of communication, but instead of getting offended, he prefers to look at it anthropologically. Bellin has a theory of why he can’t get much conversation out of the students.
“There’s a stigma against talking to an adult,” says Bellin. “If one kid comes up alone, I’m more likely to get something out of him. If there’s two or more, forget it.”
But while Anders and his fellow students don’t have a close relationship with Bellin, Anders admits that he does respect the crossing guard.
And respect might be all that matters in the relationship between the crossing guard and the students. As long as the students follow the crossing guard’s lead, everyone will remain safe.
Despite the generational gap, Bellin has plenty of nice things to say about the students he protects.
“We have a great generation coming up, getting a better education than I had,” says Bellin, adding that he’s jealous of the youngster’s computer savvy.
“I think they’re bright.”
And while Bellin would appreciate a little conversation from the students he protects, he says he doesn’t really mind just being the “old guy” that helps the middle school children cross the street.
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