Danny Tyree welcomes email responses at tyreetyrades@aol.com.
Yes, bus drivers are trapped in a work environment where rubber bands and paper footballs fly freely; where No. 2 pencils are irresistibly drawn toward major arteries; where First-Graders are exposed to birds-and-bees lectures by Sophomores (“If the bee has dreamy hair and his own car for getting to a hypothetical minimum-wage job, just go for it.”); where more cheese is cut than in a five-star French restaurant.
Back in my day, someone might smuggle a pocketknife or live frog onto the bus. Today, you’re just as likely to hear someone explain, “I don’t mind sitting on the back seat. I have to make sure no one goes out the emergency exit anyway. I don’t know which is worse: gym class or running my human trafficking operation by myself, while my brother has mono.”
Ideally, drivers are just a caring adult performing a valuable service, as a Principal does. But they do that while navigating ten tons of metal through heavy traffic. But sometimes they get “thrown under the bus” by passengers. Like when it’s THEIR FAULT they hit a few potholes, and little Gavin can’t start-and-finish his detailed diorama of Shakespeare’s London, on the way to school.
Many drivers go above and beyond the call of duty: consoling passengers who fell asleep and missed their stop; collecting Christmas gifts for underprivileged children; reuniting students with backpacks and other items they forgot. (“Thank you for dropping off my life-size model of Henry VIII’s skeleton. Now, tell my parents how it wasn’t my fault, that I forgot it.”)
Hug a School Bus Driver today, unless they’re already playing air guitar to a classic rock station while driving with their feet.