Preschool Patrol : LAPD Program Brings Cops, Toddlers Together

Looking frightened, staring at the ceiling or at their tiny feet as soon as the police officers started asking them questions, the preschoolers acted as if they were being grilled under hot lights.

One scared little girl held on to her teacher’s neck the entire time officers from the LAPD’s West Valley station visited her class Wednesday at the First United Methodist Church of Canoga Park’s Preschool.

“So often, many children see us only when we are arresting a family member,” said Officer Miki Davis. “Even when we just write citations, they see us come, conquer and then leave. That has to be very scary to them.”

So what were the scary questions Davis and her partner Gretchen Zavala were asking Wednesday?

“What have you guys been playing with today?”

“How old are you?”

“What’s your name?”

Then there was the comment Zavala made when one student showed off her coloring book. “That’s very pretty,” she said.

The gentle meeting marked the start of Adopt-a-Cop, a new program out of the Los Angeles Police Department’s West Valley station aimed at bringing cops and kids together.

Before the 30-minute visit was over, the 4- and 5-year-olds were giggling inside a squad car, firing up the car’s siren, talking through its loudspeaker--the children’s earlier trepidation long gone.

Officers from West Valley will be encouraged to visit four preschools in their beat areas for 20 to 30 minutes a week in an attempt to instill a little goodwill into the children . . . and vice versa.

“We’ve heard some 4- and 5-year-olds say they hate the police, want to kill them,” said Sgt. Dan Mastro to about a dozen officers at morning roll call Wednesday, marking the program’s kickoff.

“How does a 5-year-old learn to hate a police officer? We believe they learn it at a young age from [negative kinds] of contacts,” he told the officers.

After the roll call, Mastro, Zavala, Davis and Capt. George L. Ibarra headed off to First Methodist, the first preschool to participate in the program.

Zavala said she responded to a domestic-violence call at a hotel in the west San Fernando Valley a week ago, discovered a battered and bruised woman and arrested her husband for spousal abuse. As hard as the officers tried, the couple’s 8-year-old son was inconsolable.

“I didn’t know what to say to him,” said Zavala. “He was hysterical. Every time I tried to tell him it was all right, he just looked down.”

Two strangers carrying guns and outfitted in dark uniforms may look a lot like Darth Vader or some monster to a child, especially if they are hauling a handcuffed parent away in a squad car.

Adopt-a-Cop aims to show, as the saying once went, that the police officer is your friend. Mastro hopes that familiarity won’t breed contempt, but respect and perhaps even friendship.

Ibarra, West Valley’s commanding officer, added that the children won’t be the only ones benefiting from the increased contact.

“It is easy to measure classical police work,” Ibarra said. “I can tell you how many citations an officer writes, how many arrests he makes, but it’s not easy to measure how many times an officer helps a lost motorist with directions or is kind to a child.

“We think those kinds of things are just as important. This program allows us to do more of it.”

And if the rank and file don’t like it, they will have to deal with the program’s mastermind and fervent supporter.

At West Valley’s Wednesday-morning roll call, Mastro pitched his pilot program to a dozen officers, telling them they would be the ones “who make the program work.” He also told them to see him “if they heard anybody bad-mouthing” the program, and he would “set them straight.”

“[Officers] have asked me, ‘Are we getting away from hooking and booking?’ ” Mastro said. “They asked, ‘Are we getting away from hard-core police work?’ I tell them absolutely not. This is only for a few minutes a week, and this will pay off in numerous ways down the road.”

About 50 officers will be involved in the program initially. Mastro sees this as a first step before spreading the program throughout the city, maybe even the nation.

Davis and Zavala said they understand how some officers might not believe in the program at first, but they predicted doubters would be won over as soon as they started talking to the kids. Davis certainly was won over by 4-year-old Miranda Korkes.

The children had recently planted seeds and Miranda proudly showed Davis her plant, a three-inch seedling that hung just a bit over the ceramic pot’s rim. Like other officers, Davis had stuffed herself into a tiny chair designed for preschoolers.

“Do you like my plant?” Miranda asked.

Davis let out an “ahhhh” of appreciation. “That’s a beautiful plant,” she said.

The girl beamed.

Davis did too.