There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep. Ralph Waldo Emerson

If you haven't time to respond to a tug at your pants leg, your schedule is too crowded. Robert Brault

Whats driving a bus like? Seventy of your kids in the back seat going to town. Mr. Brandon

Friday, May 23, 2014

"Parental Neglect"

Sooner or later young boys start to ask questions.  I personally feel that many or our parents today have neglected to talk to their children about facts they should know.  Often it seems that they leave that up to teachers or hope their children will learn it from their older siblings or maybe from their friends.  I don't know if it's the awkwardness of the questions or the fear that they may introduce information to their child before they are really old enough to understand.  A curious young man approached me with some questions while we were driving down the road.  It may not have been my place but I thought I would answer him as honestly as I could.  While I tried to explain the whole parental dynamics to him another young man across the aisle added in half-truths showing he too did not understand the facts.  After I finished his face took on an ashen color and there was a slow drawn out "Whaaaaat?"  I think we can all relate.  There is not one of us that did not have the same reaction when we found out that Darth Vader was Luke Skywalker's dad.  Then I think I lost him when I tried to explain that movies 4, 5, and 6 came before 1, 2, and 3.  I think he will figure it all out in time.  Parents make sure your kids know the facts and don't pick up misinformation on the street.  It's not safe.

Monday, May 12, 2014


I did not really want to put him off the bus.  He had treated me kinder than anyone else that day.  There was no doubt in my mind that he was the smartest one on the bus.  Everyone on the bus seemed to like him.  But his behavior was just not acceptable.  From the time he stepped on the bus he was down the aisle, back up the aisle, and down again.  He seemed oblivious to what I was trying to tell him.  The whole bus seemed to be in an uproar.  It was clear; I would have to leave the parking brake set, the flashing pick up lights going, and get up out of my seat if I was ever going to get control of the situation.  The traffic on the road was now backing up in both directions with drivers who were anxious to be on their way.  I tried to talk to him in a calm manner yet it did not have the effect I hoped it would.  So I had no other choice but to go down the aisle and confront him.  Just as I was in reach he crawled under a seat.  There was no way out except back to me.  He didn't move so I asked the students in the seat to lift their legs so he could exit out the front.  I directed him right to the front and off the bus closing the door as quickly behind him as I could.  He turned and gave me a quick look that would have broken a lesser man's will.  I knew it was a lesson learned.  I released the parking brake and drove on.  I could see in the rear view mirror that he took a few steps toward the bus as we drove off and then gave up realizing that it was futile.  So for all you that were stuck in the traffic jam while I dealt with this problem I apologize.  And if that dog, that was the size of a small pony, gets on my bus again I'm bringing him to school.  I feel that in dog years he is a high school student so I will let him transfer over to the high school bus and let him go from there.

Friday, May 9, 2014

"Running On Jet Fuel"

Looking down the road I could see the usual blur of commotion up ahead.  I reluctantly came to a stop to pick up the poster child for hyperactivity and his brother, who was runner up in the poster contest.  They were engaged in their preboarding ritual of running in a circle trying to kick each other in the rear while attempting to also hit each other in the head with a book bag.  The bus doors opened the circle broke and now the bumper car dash started.  Each running and banging into the other, fighting for position as they made that critical turn around the front of the bus.  The proper timing and positioning can determine if you are the first through the door and up the steps.  On more than one occasion a brother has been bumped in this crucial turn causing him to spin out in the gravel and roll into the ditch on the side of the road.  This day, even for them, they seemed to be running on a higher octane fuel.  They were up the steps in a florescent flash.  The poster child stopped at his seat and immediately started jumping up and down shouting, "I've got orange!  I've got orange!  Even my socks are orange!"  The reason for the extra enthusiasm was now aperient.  What parent in their right mind takes two children, whose energy output would put General Electric to shame, and dresses one in florescent orange and the other in florescent green?  Thanks Mom, for pulling the pin out of that hand grenade and throwing it on my bus.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

"Lawn Mower"

As I pulled up to the first grader's house something in the yard caught my attention.  As he came up the steps I gave him that questioning, puzzled look.  You know, one eyebrow up one eyebrow down.  I looked back to the yard and then back to him.  He knew exactly what I was puzzled about.  Now when your bus route is in the country you expect to see things not indigenes to the city but it's still odd to hear the phrase, "Not my donkey!  Belongs to my dad's friend."  Then a fourth grader added, "Looks like someone got a new lawn mower."

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

"Living The Dream"

Before the second grader was seated he removed a walkie talkie from his belt and started speaking into it, "Yes, I'll need a large soft drink and look in the refrigerator and bring that left over spaghetti up to the school."  He paused looked at me and said, "Man, that place last night had the best spaghetti in the world."  Holding up his fist he continued, "Those meatballs were this big."  He returned to the walkie talkie with, "Yes, that will be all for now."  I wanted to ask, but before I could a student interjected, "Who was that?"  "Oh, that was Bertrim my personal butler," he said with a wave of his hand.  I thought of the house where I picked him up and I came to the realization that the servant's quarters had been cleverly disguised as a tool shed.  I assume this was for tax purposes.