Lisha Cassibo has been writing for the Uxbridge Cosmos for two years, both as a freelancer and as a columnist. She has also written for several parenting magazines both here in Canada and for English publications in Switzerland. She graduated from Carleton University with an honours degree in Journalism and English Literature. She lives with her family in Sunderland.
Bus rules 101
A couple of years ago, I was doing a bus charter to an apple orchard, taking junior and senior kindergarten children out to enjoy the bounties of nature. As we strolled through the orchard, one of the parent chaperones sidled up beside me. We chatted for a bit, and talk turned to bus driving. He stopped and looked at me, shaking his head.
"I'm sure there has got to be a special place in heaven for school bus drivers," he said admiringly.
His words sometimes pop into my mind, especially on days when the noise level in the bus outdoes the loudest rock concert, and Velcro or Crazy Glue seem like perfectly acceptable options for keeping kids in their seats. When I recall his words, I feel a little bit like it's worth it. That I am appreciated.
But lately, I seem to have fallen from this apparent state of grace. I don't think I'm doing anything differently. In fact, I know I'm not. Other drivers on the road, however, don't seem to think that. I have been wildy gestured at, honked at, and even been flipped the proverbial bird. All for... doing my job.
Let's review.
School bus. Large yellow-orange vehicle that transports the world's most precious cargo to and from institutions of learning. Usually on the road first thing in the morning, and in the middle of the afternoon. Can't miss 'em. Been around for awhile, not much new. But I do have a little update that perhaps the average Joe on the road needs to hear. I'm not out to purposefully make you late for work, or disrupt your routine, or otherwise inconvenience you. I'm not out to ruin your life. I'm driving kids to and from school. Sometimes I think you're out to ruin mine.
You see, I get a little bewildered when, well in advance of a stop, I put on my "WARNING LIGHTS", read WARNING LIGHTS, meant to WARN you that I'm going to be doing a stop, and you feel the need to slam on your brakes, or gesture wildly, glaring at me because I am going to do what a school bus does. Do you not see that there is no driveway right where you brought your car to a stop on a dime - the kids I'm picking up are a little ways back there. Yup. Right there at the end of their drive. You passed them. Too busy listening to your iPod? Talk radio? Even worse, were you on your phone? You weren't paying attention, that's for sure! Methinks you give me heck for putting on my lights because you weren't doing your part, got caught, and are having a guilty moment.
And of course I, being the professional I am, have to sit on my hands in order not to manually respond to your communication with me - there are kids on the bus, after all. Never mind that they teach me everything I know about that sort of thing...
You also don't need to pass me at a million miles an hour, trying to make your point that I am a bit slower than standard traffic. You curse me out because I am only doing the speed limit. I would apologize profusely, but you see, my bus just doesn't go any faster! A tin on wheels with seats inside is as good as it gets - the day they give me a Ferrari bus is the day I'll offer a good race! But until then, you'll have to put up with my speed. Or pass me a little more carefully.
If I let you pass me by pulling over to the shoulder, which I try to do as often as possible while still maintaining my schedule (yes, I have a fairly strict schedule - I don't pick Johnny up around 7:45, his pick up time is 7:47, no debate), then I really like it when you just hold your hand up and wave, acknowledging that I made this concession to you. (I would also like to see this happen at the merger from the 404 to the DVP at the 401, but hey, I don't want to get greedy).
You see, I am only mentioning all this because, well, you scare me, you car drivers out there. (I find truckers have a different respect for us bus drivers. Hm.) It's your kids I'm driving around. It's your kids that I am trying to quiet down, keep in their seats, listen to, get to know, discipline, all while driving a vehicle that resembles a metal tunnel on wheels on roads that aren't always in the most savory condition, especially in winter. I don't want to have to worry about hurting your feelings by turning on my lights,or making a drop-off even though you really need to pee and would rather not stop. I do wave to say thank you once I'm going again - not that that relieves your bladder in any way...
I only want to worry about getting my kids - I see them all as “my kids” when they're on my bus - to school or home, as the case may be, safely and on time. Please don't stress me out more by giving me the finger because I happen to be in a bigger vehicle than you. There are kids watching.
