I was a School Bus Driver
I was a school bus driver. No other occupation, no other life experience equals that of a school bus driver. And no matter how much one tries to imagine all of the problems, incidents and joys that driving a bus entails, one has to 'be there' to really know what it is like.
There are several sizes of buses, from the tiny ones that are made for special education students to the giant ones that carry up to 72 children. I drove all sizes and all have their own unique set of circumstances that travel along the highways and streets of a school district.
Each bus has mirrors for the driver to see the children as they are on the bus or crossing the street or climbing the bus steps, to see also approaching traffic, curbs and obstacles; the mirrors alone can amount to a dizzying array for the new driver. There are at least half a dozen the driver must be aware of at all times. And the lights are another feature of bus driver intimidation. There are lights to illuminate the road just as any other vehicle, but there are also lights for warning other drivers that the bus is about to stop and deposit or pick up children. There are lights for stopping before crossing railroad tracks. turning lights, and warning lights of many descriptions. Another contender for attention is the radio. Not a musical one, but the radio of communication with the transportation offices. Not to be forgotten in the sign for stopping traffic and the emergency door at the rear. However, these are only mechanical features.
Procedures to follow are endless. On my buses, there were children of all ages and sizes. On the special education bus routes there were children with all sorts of handicaps. Some were unable to talk, walk or communicate in any fashion, but since they are still children and have the same rights as the big seventeen year old foot ball player, they are shown care and respect as though the driver is the parent. Sometimes, the driver has an aid for assistance, but even then, the bus is under the control of the driver and it is his or her responsibility to make sure all children arrive at their destination safely.
Some children are absolutely adorable. I was given hugs and kisses, though a bus driver is encouraged to not allow this. But how can you refuse to allow a three or four year old to hug you as they climb onto the bus? I was given gifts and cards and told how much the child loved me. I loved them in return, but was not allowed to demonstrate this with gifts or otherwise.
Imagine if you can, traveling in heavy early morning or late afternoon traffic with sixty or more children sitting behind you. Now imagine that they are not all sitting, but some are out of their seats, fighting, wrestling, kissing, cursing, opening windows and leaning out, throwing food and books about the bus, throwing food and books and clothes out of the windows onto the traffic and streets below, and even opening the emergency door at the back.
Then there are the children who don't act like children at all, but are more like little criminals in training. I was threatened with all manner of hurt. And some children backed that up with weapons they brought onto the bus, such as scissors and screwdrivers. It is not with a feeling of security that I drove up and down interstates, little side streets and elsewhere with a child seated right behind me holding a screwdriver, calling me names and saying what he would do to me. And even ten and eleven year old children seem to know so many racial slurs to hurl about, curse words and knowledge of the female anatomy in detail.
The bus is expected to leave the transportation grounds at a certain minute, reach the first stop only so many minutes later and each stop thereafter is only to take two minutes or less. How numerous were the days that the children were not at the stop, the bus was running, horn honking and finally I had to drive on to the next stop, only to be radioed and given instructions to return to the previous stop? And how many times would the same child be told they could not bring toys, open umbrellas, food and other items onto the bus in the mornings? An uncountable number to be sure. One child had hot soup in a crock pot one morning. After instructing this child that this was not allowed, not acceptable, and dangerous in the extreme, and after holding the bus up for countless minutes, I had to follow orders to allow the hot food to be brought on board anyway.
The buses were required to be at the schools on time. If early, which happened, we had to wait until the doors opened and the children could be allowed inside. If late, we were admonished and could face being written up, even if it was due to following instructions from the office, sometimes being told by a supervisor, 'You didn't hear it from me.'
There were a few times that I had to call in for security to meet my bus because one of more of the children had reached a level of violence that one person was unable to control. There are only so many ways that a driver can do things that are within the legal realms of controlling the bus and its occupants. Actually, a bus driver has little authority on a bus. They are subject to the discipline of the different schools in the system and the transportation department. Teachers, principals and parents can make it very difficult if not impossible for a driver to do their job with any satisfaction if the route is a rough one with many disciplinary problems. And this is all in addition to the usual problems a driver faces in traffic, plus the ones only school bus drivers endure. Many were the times that cars and trucks drove right past the stop sign as I waited for children to cross the street, enter or exit the bus. One child was nearly hit when a sports car sped past. She was spared due only to the fact a boy walking close to her saw the car and pulled her out of the way.
One of the easiest parts of the job is a part most drivers found distasteful. I had to keep my bus clean inside and out and fuel it up each day. I also had to make a daily report of any problems with the bus, with the children or the route. Many routes were easy, some were harder than I could have ever imagined, but all were memorable. Each route had at least one child, usually more than one, that grabbed a piece of my heart and still lives there.
