My Kingdom, My Bus

A driver in her tiny fiefdom. 

I was subbing on a bus route yesterday (there's no preschool on Wednesdays), and in the late morning I was taking high schoolers from the technical school back to their high school. I welcome all the kids as they climb on (I have to count them, after all), but I don't try to make conversation with them. High schoolers are very self-absorbed. They don't usually make eye contact or acknowledge that I'm right in front of them. I am merely a fixture. Their ears are most often stuffed with earbuds.

On the drive, one of the girls in the front seat asked me if it's hard to drive a bus. I responded that it is very different than driving a car, but once you get used to making turns and compensating for 40 feet of bus behind you, you get used to it. I said it only took a few weeks for me to get trained. Then I waved my hand at the buttons panel and said, "You even learn what all of these are for!"

A moment after I stopped talking, I heard her seat mate say quietly, "You didn't ask for her life story!"

Roll eyes.

This is why I drive preschoolers. Preschoolers are happy to give me a high-five or knuckles when they get on the bus, and they love it when you're excited to see them. Give them a little kindness and attention and they're your best friend. They have not yet learned sarcasm.

On the first run of the day today--just before the sun rose--I was picking up junior high kids from a nearby town where the streets are all kittywampus. It's a very confusing area to drive in.

It was dark, and I couldn't tell where my first stop was as I crept along, trying to see house numbers on unlit porches. Turns out I missed the first stop, because the dad of the kids at that stop stomped up to the bus door a few stops further down, after chasing me in his car, and was quite upset with me for not seeing him flashing his headlights at me to stop. I sincerely apologized and told him I was completely unfamiliar with the route, and he calmed down when he recognized that I wasn't the normal driver. What I didn't say is that I have a 50-foot blind spot directly behind my school bus, so no matter how much you flash your lights, I'm not going to see you; and if I do, I might just assume you're a serial killer and speed up to keep the kids safe (not really. I would probably never notice unless I was trying to change lanes).

A trick I've learned when I'm subbing on a junior high run: when it's dark in the morning, turn on the roof light in the very back of the bus. Most of the kids that age think a substitute driver is an excuse to get crazy, and they love sitting in the back of the bus. With the light on, they know I can see them in my mirror, and they tend to behave a lot better. I learned that the hard way, so I've been passing that nugget of wisdom along to all the new drivers I encounter.

Bus drivers, as a group, are a fairly cantankerous lot. We tend to be quite independent-minded, and driving a bus is ideal because you're not being micromanaged by some supervisor looking over your shoulder. Your bus is your little fiefdom. That independent spirit also means that some bus drivers always feel they know better than the administrators and will argue with every new procedure or request. Seriously, it's like herding cats. Individually, we're pretty friendly people, and most of us drive buses as a side-hustle. Many bus drivers are actually small business owners and entrepreneurs who just need a little guaranteed extra cash. As a group, though, I'm not sure how anyone puts up with us. I like most of the drivers on a one-on-one basis, but having a crowd of us at a party would be a disaster.

I named my bus "Wildfire" in honor of Rex O'Herlihan's horse in the classic spoof western "Rustlers' Rhapsody." On, Wildfire, on!