Every parent has a phobia they face when their child goes off to school for the first time. For me it was riding the bus. Many of my friends were surprised by this fear, they either enjoyed riding the bus as a child or never had the opportunity too. If they had survived what I had survived as a child, they would understand.
My mom had to push me on the school bus. That isn’t a figure of speech. She quite literally, would stand out in the rain and physically pull me by the arm up to the steps of the yellow bus and push me inside right as the door swung shut. From that point, she had the bus driver deal with me.
I loathed the bus because I was relentlessly bullied. From kindergarten until 3rd grade, I survived the taunting, spit wads, gum wads, stealing, name calling and being tripped down the aisle. This was during the late 1980’s and early 1990’s, zero tolerance policies for bullying didn’t exist. The bus drivers, would wear head phones, look straight ahead and could care less if a child was being picked on or harassed. When things did get out of hand, they would start screaming at us without watching the road. There was one bus route in our district that hit a total of six dogs one year.
The buses were old, rickety and sported torn seats. They broke down regularly, stranding kids out in rural areas. There was one bus in particular that had a nail head sticking clear out of the vinyl. I have a scar on my knee to this day where that very nail head impaled my skin. My brother was being bullied. As he sat in the seat crying, I rushed down the aisle while going down the highway to protect him. My knee rammed the nail and I had to listen to the bus driver scream at me as my pant leg filled with blood. It was survival of the fittest on that bus.
When I switched schools and entered the fourth grade, I was old enough to finally defend myself. I had a small group of friends on the bus and we stuck together. We developed a low simmering war, with a group of boys. The bullied became the bullies. The ring leader of this gang of boys was an elementary school Romeo. My friends and I rejected his flirting and a war ensued. In all honesty, other than making fun of us, he never was truly cruel. After months of dealing with him and his gang, I decided to get him back where it hurts. I made of fun of his developing body odor and hurt his feelings so badly that I made him cry. I’m not proud of it and I did apologize. I ended up getting suspended from the bus for three days.
The bus driver had it in for me after that. She found me at fault for everything. One afternoon, while driving through Main Street, she turned around to yell at me and nearly drove through a stop sign. She slammed the breaks on so hard that she actually threw a classmate of mine over the seat and into the next row. I received so many bus tickets that year for ridiculous reasons that my dad actually had to have a meeting with the bus garage.
When my daughter was ready to start kindergarten, I was concerned. We lived about a mile from the school but due to the busy roads, lack of crosswalks and horrendous parking lot, we were forced to enroll her on the bus. I spoke to the school and was assured, she would get their safely.
Her first day of kindergarten, I was down with the flu. She was proud to take the bus and a friend of mine whose son was also starting kindergarten, promised to check on her when they arrived. We were told that there would be teachers waiting at the bus drop off to specifically take the kindergartens inside on their first day. It all would have worked out wonderfully, had our bus driver not been new. Our bus pulled in ten minutes late and dropped the kids off. My daughter and a small group of kindergartners were left outside in front of the school, alone. I had prepped her for this possibility and she knew what to do. She led her classmates straight into the school and my panicking friend found her. I called the school when I learned. I felt as if my worst fears had been confirmed.
A week later the bus was late as we had another brand new driver. They picked all the kids up from our bus stop and I stayed outside for twenty minutes to chat with the other parents. As I prepared to go inside, a school bus comes driving down our street. I run out with the other parents and there is my daughter, face plastered to the window, a big smile on her face and her little hand waving at me. I wave back and pull my phone out. Twenty minutes has passed. The school is two minutes away!
I call the bus garage and get a hold of a very cranky woman.
“Yes, Ma’am, we’re aware! It’s a new driver. Your child will make it to school safely!” She hangs up on me.
In solidarity, the other parents start calling the school to lodge their own complaints. I’m glad I’m not the only crazy Mama Bear out there. At the end of the day, we are all waiting patiently for the bus to arrive. It’s late and I’m looking at my phone, growing edgy as every minute passes. We see it at last, coming down the wrong street. I start walking towards it and as my vision clears, I see my daughter in the very front row, pointing and talking to the driver with authority. When she exits the bus at the wrong stop, the driver thanks her for all the help. She looks right at me.
“Mom, he didn’t know where he was going so I showed him all the stops.”
“You what?” I ask her in astonishment. “You gave him directions?”
“Yep, he didn’t know where to go so I told him. I remembered the street signs and I know where everyone lives!”
My kindergartner after one week of school, gave the bus driver directions and thanks to her, everyone arrived home. As proud as I was of her, my confidence in school buses hasn’t changed. As luck would have it, we moved just two short months later, to a school where around seventy percent of the student body walks. We have a walking group that transports kids to school and crossing guards at every corner and intersection. I believe God placed us where we are meant to be. I can’t decide if my negativity toward school buses led us to disaster. I wonder sometimes, if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. For now, I’m content to have my daughters walk.
