Friday Afternoons

I’m sitting in a warm, quiet bus, in a long line of school buses like a yellow ribbon strung in an arc in front of this grade 2-4 school, waiting. Momentarily the doors will open and they will emerge, walking as fast as possible without breaking into a run (running ist Verboten!), happy, their eyes scanning for their bus number or the familiar faces of their drivers. They jostle to be first on the bus, a badge of honor which goes to little Dominic most of the time. He is by far the shortest of this group, but you should see how fast his little legs can walk.

The cold January air and the increasing loudness have replaced the quiet and the warmth. Time to get to work!

It is Friday. They are so loud and restless on Fridays that I believe, at times, my pulse quickens.

Volume Control UP
Friday afternoon is the most dramatic and most active ride of the week. Someone calls someone stupid. That’s all it takes and now, the receiver of stupid believes that I must, that I want, to know about it. How do they tell me from seat 15? They yell. I can’t hear them, so they simply yell louder, their insulted eyes on me. I still can’t hear them because one yeller turns up the volume enough to require another child to yell to his friends, like a line of dominos standing on end, the first yell is the touch that starts the action.

The Driver Reacts
Twice I have pulled over, turned off the engine and become the Wicked Witch of the West on a Friday afternoon. Occassionally I’ve attempted other methods to quell the mounting Friday afternoon chaos. One time I grabbed my microphone, turned the volume to high and sang: “Whooooooooooooooooo lives in a pineapple under the sea!”. Shocked into silence, they gazed at one another, mouths open in surprise but quickly recovered and boomed, “Sponge Bob Square Pants!!”. That was fun and it worked. They sang that annoying little ditty for days.

You know, the way this story is told, you might be surprised that it is only a 3-mile trip. My motto has been, “I can take anything for three miles”. However, there are ten stop signs, one traffic light, and a lot of turns. I count them on Fridays.

Requiem for Bob and Joan

Whining on Wednesdayand Having Some Fun
I have a new Pet Peeve!
The Culprits
Amaya, Naairah, Zania, Ayana, Anass, Javaughn, Nathalie, Caitlyn, Caitlin, Shakur, etc., etc.
The Question
I s there a secret competition to bestow upon babies names that are rare, invented, hard to pronounce, or spelled so as to further confuse the already confusing rules of phonics?
My Ears Were Opened!
I noticed the extent of this craziness when I started driving school children whereupon it was discovered to be rampant in elementary to middle school aged children.
Rambling - Briefly
Occasionally I write for the local newspaper and had an assignment to cover a small event at an elementary school and to get a group photo of the children involved. Three teachers assisted me, straight faced, with spelling the children’s names, as I tried to hide my horror and astonishment at the absurdity of the names and their spelling.
Action
If a child is named ‘ROCK’, does it have to be spelled R-A-U-K?
What’s up with this?
I suppose these names will always be misspelled and having to say, “no it’s not ‘SKY’ it’s S-K-Y-E” or “no, it’s not MARIE, it’s M-A-R-E-E," could become tiresome. Take it from me, Donnalee LaRose. No one gets it right. I've stopped the corrections.
Conclusion
Who wants to wager these children will name their own children Susan and David?

Or, perhaps Shakur and Maree will be the new Betty and Bobby.

The Situation
Seating for the 2nd and 3rd grade is in the middle of the bus, from whence comes deafening boy noise.

The Outburst
One particularly noisy afternoon I yelled, no bellowed, “boys, if this screaming doesn’t stop, I will move one of you up front and seat you between two 1st grade girls…and I know who you are.” That little outburst delivered sensory relief and their short attention spans.

Hands were raised. “What!, I said, no- yelled.

Characters
“I’ll come up front”, volunteered the boy I call Jack in the Box. This child cannot sit down. When I tell him to sit down, he sits down, and when I look back, he’s standing up again. He often has not had breakfast or brushed his teeth when he comes to school.

“Me!”, volunteered another. This one is obsessed with the Guiness Book of World Records. Every Monday he tells me about something he did over the weekend, trying to break a record. Last weekend it was standing on a pile of books. “What is the record?”, I asked. “79 hours”(or something like that), he said. “How many hours did you stand on books?”, I asked. “6 hours”, he said. “Wow, keep at it – you’ll do it, now go back and sit down.”

I don’t want the next volunteer up front even though he’s responsible for a lot of noise. Obsessed with Obama and Lincoln, he likes to prove how smart he is by reciting all kinds of facts about them. No one else can get a word.

Reality
Actually, I don’t want any of them up front. There’s not enough room “up front” for everyone who wants to sit there. Up front is for the youngest and the baddest.

Proposal
Round school busses! The good children can sit up front as well as the young and the bad. And maybe we'll have a quieter ride!

It's Soooo Cold in the Mornings

It's dark and it cold, but I like the camaraderie - why complain, we each have to start up a freezing cold, tin can with an ice cold vinyl seat to sit upon.

The veteran's know, so I watch to learn. Ski pants, bib style. If I'm doing this next year I'm getting some.

SPEECH LESSONS FOR MIDDLE SCHOOLERS?

Saturday, December 12, 2009

When the "F-Bomb" is hurled, I look in the mirror and allow the indignation and horror show on my face. Some gaze back with a "what's your problem" look - some look away.

My remedy? A quote to challenge their Playstation glazed brains. But, let's give some credit, at least to the few who understood that 'profanity' means "something about swearing", as one girl explained to her seat mate.

PROFANITY IS THE EFFORT OF A FEEBLE BRAIN TO EXPRESS ITSELF FORCIBLY

I challenged them to write down what this quote meant and drop it in my 'container' when boarding after school. The promise of candy later in the week sealed the deal.

Did We Stop Teaching Spelling in Middle School?

A sampling of the responses follows (as written):

You cursing means your not so graet of bright.

Don't curse on the bus.

Curseings for wimps. He He :)

That means no cureing! on the bus

Profanity is a stupid way for stupid people to try to be tough (wow-a speller!)

Dont sware. Swareing is bad or if swear your weak

Cursing is the way young brain describe how we really feel

Did We Meet the Goal?

If there's any more swearing on the bus, you can't hear it. This exercise taught them to swear softly. Middle schoolers are a blast!

Posted by Donnalee at 5:48 AM 0 comments

Beautiful Moment

A rainy, cool morning the school bus doors whoosh open to greet 25 elementary children. I'm dismayed to see dripping wet, open umbrellas also coming aboard. Assisting the younger children, quickly, mindful of the cars waiting behind the bus, imagining I can hear engines revving, and glancing at the line of children still outside waiting to board, I notice the canopy, spontaneously formed, of umbrellas of every color and design, just like the parents who are lovingly holding them, together, to shelter each other's children.

Summer Break

It has been fun sharing stories and impressions from the School Bus.

School's out! Time to read, finish some writing projects, and get out the grill.

Honeymoon's Over

I'm driving a short bus for the remaining four weeks of school. They're fun: faster acceleration, possibly a/c, an armrest and....seatbelts indeed, for the students who
will buckle up, albeit loose enough to turn around and socialize.

I'm an ugly, yellow, private taxi charging determinedly through traffic and back roads. I pick up children at their doorsteps (come on now, don't make me wait) and deliver them to private and religious schools.

Few students = fewer behavioral issues. I miss the drama that takes place in the big bus. Really, I'm looking for stories from the little bus. How much hair pulling can go on here? It's quiet, children sit nearer to the driver.

The only thing left to a driver looking for a story is to listen and eavesdrop. But these kids are not public school crazies! This little yellow taxi delivers its fares to a Catholic School, a $10,000 a year private school and an Islamic school.

How about some stories of suicidal teenage drivers in mustangs and rude BMW's with all the windows tinted black, few respect the school bus.

Blood and Children

Blood stains clothes! Blood is dangerous! Blood scares and panics primary children and to hear: "Jared's bleeding!!, Bussss DrIIver! Jared's bleeding!",can scare the driver.

Fortunately, Jared and the famous Phillip were sitting in the front seat. What a ghastly sight. Jared had a heavy duty nosebleed and Phillip looked concerned. Apparently, Phillip elbowed him in the nose "by accident".

First decision -give Jared a tissue. Second decision - move Phillip.

The maternal first grader, Emma, in the white jacket, was moving toward Jared to soothe and comfort him. "Sit down, Emma, the blood will stain your white jacket".

"Maybe this ones a bleeder", I wondered. The tissue I gave to Jared was useless. Blood was smeared all over his face and hands. The students in the front seats were on full alert. In my mirror I saw 20 little faces reflecting horror and fascination . All eyes on Jared. The back of the bus was clueless, thank goodness.

By the time we got to the school, the bleeding had stopped, of course. Jared had so much dried blood on his face and hands, he looked like he had had a severe head injury. I was glad to hand him over to the nurse, who was waiting for us. She proceeded to walk with Jared into the school and quickly returned. "Which one's Phillip?", she demanded.

If I could post a picture of Phillip, you might say, "you go, girl", because I didn't help her. The school would locate him soon enough anyway. He's only six.

Tears? What Tears?

70 elementary schoolers on my bus last week! Does that seem crazy, or even dangerous to anyone? It's certainly chaotic...and distracting to the driver.

Today, amid the din and craziness I could see a first grader, 8 rows back, looking at me, crying in a way that really tugged at my heart and calling (what else) "buuuus driverrrrr, buus driiiverr". Frustrated because I couldn't hear him, I grabbed my trusty intercom and yelled to a 4th grader, "Samantha, tell me what is happening with those boys in the seat in front of you!"

"Ahmed hit James and James is crying".

"Ahmed! I want you sitting in your seat, I want your face looking straight ahead and I want your hands on your lap, now!". Remember how much I loved the little ones in my first week?

As soon as I yelled at Ahmed, the little heart-tugging boy morphed back into a happy 1st grader.

A Moment in the Bus

Phillip is in first grade. I just love him. He is so darn cute. A little chubby with a big round face. Phillip causes a lot of problems. I keep my eye on Phillip every day.

How does Phillip know when I'm checking on everyone in the rear view mirror? Each time I look back, he is looking at me, poised in the midst of doing something. Many of my 1st nine days as a driver, Phillip sat up front.

My choice, not his.

One day, after dropping off the K-1 kids, I proceeded to the next school to drop off the 2nd-4th's. As the kids file past me, I'm repeatedly informed, "Bus Driver!, Adin is crying!" or "Bus Driver, Adin missed his stop." The bus empties of the final 50 children except one.

The top of a red hoodie is barely visible over the top of a seat in the back.

I could not leave my seat and other buses were lined up behind me waiting to go. "Sweetheart, come up front," I called serveral times until the red hoodie finally moved, slowly walking up the aisle. The red hoodie was on a little, dark, crying, kindergartener.

"You just sit down right here and we'll go right back to Gockley. Don't worry, it's ok. Really. No one will be mad at you."

"What's your name?" "What?" "Tell me again."

Sobbing and heaving, "...hit..me". "Who hit you?"

"Phillip. Phillip hit me," sob, sob, sob.

Adin sobbed and hiccuped for the 5 minute ride back to his school. His little body was spent and prostrate on the floor when we arrived. One of the teachers on bus duty boarded my bus and utilized all their special teacher skills to get Adin into school!

Phillip is permanently in the front seat!

Day 1 Mentors

My last post signed off with the promise of introducing Phillip and the K-child. I'll get to them. Believe me, there are a ton of Phillips and crying K-children. I won't forget Phillip.

Back to Day 1
First day as a bus driver I was a passenger. Front seat, notebook in hand, busy jotting down the route, bus stops, difficult turns to watch out for, etc. This morning run was driven by a quiet man who patiently expained bus driving things as we meandered along the route.

Instruction from the Potty
The afternoon driver.... speaks for itself. The first thing this big bellied, know everyone, good hearted man bellowed to me was: "Rule number 1. Don't let them give you any SH#@!!"

"Okay", I mewed.

Because of the speed at which he drove the bus and took the turns, I was concentrating on my task of notetaking yet I managed to hear a little voice across the aisle. Two little angels were looking at me, eyes big and expectant. "What did you say, sweetheart?", I asked. "Would you like to play I-Spy with us?", he asked breathlessly, as though he were offering me a million bucks. What did the driver mean by take no SH#@?

Middle School
Now I know what he meant by take no SH#@. Foul mouth continued spewing forth his sage advice, peppered with SH##s and BIT##s and DAM$s and more SH#$S, as he attacked the winding road, foot pressed full on the throttle. "Language!!" he roared, suddenly, looking in the rear view mirror. I never heard the offending word, and I was amazed that such a potty mouth (learned that word from the mid schoolers) would even notice. Apparently he does not tolerate offensive language on his bus.

The middle school run has become my favorite. Foul language has been squashed, thanks to tattle telling girls..who have pointed out the 'potty mouths'. Middle school girls tattle!

This week I assigned three boys to the front seats. Troublemakers. Having them up front enabled me to get to know them a little. They're not so bad. They're kids.

Bus Driver! Bus Driver!

The Newbie Speaks
I've been driving a school bus for four days and...I like it. Two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon, sitting up high and trying not to take out street signs when I take left turns. The highlight of each of those shifts is my elementary school run.
I'm Telling!
My last run on each shift is the K-4th graders. In the morning, I deliver them to two schools (on the same campus): the K-1st school and the 2nd - 4th school. First, I go to the K-1 school. We always have to wait about five minutes until the teachers come out before opening the bus doors. That's when the tattling, and my battle to keep a straight face, begins. There are several stories to tell, but I'll just tell a little for now.
Case Dismissed
Two adorable kindergaten girls approached me. One had her little hand on the side of her face. Try to imagine this:

Cutie#1: Bus Driver, she hit me with her backpack.
Cutie#2: By accident
Cutie#1: Yes, by accident.
Me, thinking: "then what are we tattling for"
Me, saying: "Well, are you okay?"
Cutie#1 & Cutie#2: Yes, it's okay.

This afternoon Phillip will sit in the front seat
Phillip is in 2nd grade. He has a crew cute and a little round face. When I check on the kids in the rear view mirror, I notice that Phillip notices this and looks right at me. It's as though I'm always catching him about to do something naughty. He is naughty.

More on Phillip tomorrow and the crying kindergartener who forgot to get off the bus.

Getting Back On Track

Big day yesterday - passed the school bus driver test! How did this happen? It just did.

Our school district was offering free bus driver training and I thought, "what the heck - it's free, there's a recession, why not learn a new skill?" (Besides, at least it pays pretty well - a lot better, at the moment, than that fledgling writing career!)
It Became a Case of "Stick-to-it-Ness"

--16 hours classroom
--background checks, drug testing
--Commercial Drivers permit - 4tests (Air Brakes, Gen'l Knowledge, Passenger and ?)
--8-12 hours per week on the training course for about 6 weeks

--You wouldn't believe the memorizing I had to do!

--One hour Q&A, maneuvering, and road test with the PennDot examiner.

What Now...
I'm hired... Substitute Driver. Good. That's enough.
Lesson Learned...School bus drivers have an amazing responsibility and it is incredible how much they have to know - at least in this district.
Drop outs...Of the original 28 who signed up for the course - only 5 stayed with it. Would I have signed on for this if I realized how much work was involved? Hmm, I don't know.

Soapbox (kind of)

I've been looking at the layout of my blog, lately, and have been thinking that it's time for change. Hmmm, where else have I been hearing that expression? Oh, yeah, I just remembered. B.O. It should be B.H.O., but I remember he was a little sensitive about his middle name, so I wouldn't dare use it - general public and media do not criticize or ask probing questions of our "citizen of the world", from my viewpoint, anyway. I guess I'm a little irritated with our new president because I'm busy enough. Now I'm going to have to get more involved than ever to keep an eye on this charming guy.

The change I really was talking about is my my blog. "Write to Inform" is slowly peeking forth. That is the name on my business card for my writing business, the pursuit of which, I am about to step up. That's why I'm angry about our new president. I need to watch him closely and I'll probably end up involved with some group or other to fight some of the "change" that may come. Dang, Drat, *&#@, Mr. Obama! I don't have time for this.