The sound of the first bell signifies the start of a day for the average high school student. But to locals living around the school, the bell means a daily struggle to protect their property.

Because of the gradual overcrowding in North Miami Beach High, demographers needed a school that could hold large amounts of students. Farmer Joe’s landfill met those requirements.

“The land needed to be large enough to support the high school and all its extra curricular activities,” Assistant Principal Dawn Baglos said.

Thus in 1995, Farmer Joe sold the 34-acre plot of land to build a school intended for 2,550 students. Although construction began the spring of the following year, people living around the perimeter did not get to vote on whether they wanted a school to be built near their homes.

Regardless of the residents’ consent, Krop High School began operation two years after construction. Ten years later, the number of students has nearly doubled to 3,591 students. However, crowded halls are not the only consequences of overpopulation. Neighbors have suffered as well.

“I never expected it would be like this,” local resident Lanie Hughes said.

Hughes moved into the house four months ago with her boyfriend from Daytona Beach. Her house faces the bus lane, but the roaring of exiting buses is just the beginning of her daily struggle. Ever since she moved in, her mornings are compromised with the sound of honking horns.

“Since everybody honks, I figure I might as well get up at 5 a.m. since I’m going to get woken up anyway,” she said.

Locals have also had to deal with students parking their car on their lawns without their permission.

“If I could have a choice, I would rather have the landfill. You don’t have people lowering your grass because they park here,” Krop alumni Jesse Romano said. “They think that because the school’s right there, your property is a parking lot.”

Resident of 12 years Lorena Roman has been faced with the same problem.

“They used to park down here,” she said, pointing to the rectangular six-by-six land of grass touching her house. “My mom kept on complaining, so I planted little plants to keep them off.”

Although Roman lets students park on her lawn because they claim her that they cannot afford the parking in the school, others such as Romano wish they would leave his property alone, especially because of the debris students leave behind.

“They mess up my grass,” he said. “They leave trash, book bags, pencils, homework and a whole bunch of crap.”

Hughes also considers this a major problem. Outside her house are cans of Arizona iced tea, newspapers, pens and other undistinguishable objects washed out by the rain and dirt.

“People throw their car trash on my lawn and I have to pick it up,” she said, pointing to the uneven half-dead grass caused by parked cars. “You should treat other people’s stuff with respect. They wouldn’t like it if I left my trash on their property.”

Although prohibited parking remains an issue, locals are faced with yet another dilemma: vandalism.

Hughes has had someone kick her six-by-three foot beige door, leaving a black vertical line run halfway up with a distinguishable black mark of a footprint in the middle. Four houses down from her, senior Stanley Jean Julien’s olive green 4Runner SR5 Toyota was broken into through the driver window where his mom’s purse was stolen last November.

“I was just upset that someone would just come up and vandalize my property,” Julien said. “I had to cancel all of my mom’s credit cards. I guess they had nothing better to do.”

In order to protect themselves and their belongings, both Hughes and Julien have taken security measures. Julien, for instance, has his dog.

“Don’t let the brown eyes and the white tips of his nose fool you,” he said, smiling at the brown and white Japanese Sakita. “She’ll take anybody. She barks at anyone who walks by.”

While Julien finds comfort and company in his pet, Hughes has taken a more drastic step.

“It’s my property and I have the right to protect it, and I will,” Hughes said. “I’m an avid gun user, and I would pull out a gun on somebody.”

Days weren’t always like this. Local Chuck Willie recalls the years where the land on which the school was built belonged to Farmer Joe.

With an opened beer can sitting on top of the blue ice cooler and a cigarette in his left hand, 38-year-old Willie remembers his childhood days spent on Farmer Joe’s land.

“Kids used to steal cars, take them to Farmer Joe’s and burn them. They would build flats and drink beer since there wasn’t much to do in the ‘70s,” he said, smiling. “I had real good times here.”

Willie has lived in the neighborhood his entire life and has raised a family here. His son built a tree house inside the 15- foot tree located in the front yard when he was a child.

Because the tree house can only be seen if one walks onto Willie’s driveway, skippers have taken his private property and made it into their refuge.

“I see at least 10 kids a week in that tree house,” Willie said. “They mostly come in during their lunch hours, but I haven’t seen any these past few weeks.

According to Julien, there is a pecking order to skipping. The first group, he said, is the “slaughter group;” everyone gets caught. Then, the second group goes where only half the people skipping are caught. Finally, the last group departs.

“The third group that jumps the fence is most likely to get away with anything because Officer Dunn is too busy with the other kids,” he said.

Although Krop’s population poses problems to locals, others, such as Roman, choose to embrace this establishment to improve the life of younger children.

“This is not a bad neighborhood,” she said. “It’s a really good neighborhood and it needs a school. I believe in prosperity.”