round and round
Between kindergarten and grade six I had a one hour and fifteen minute bus ride to and from school. We were told that we were five or ten minutes under the maximum length of time a bus could run one way before another bus had to be brought in to take half the load of kids. In that time we had three bus drivers. First one was an older farmer guy who knew my family so things were all right. Everything was fair and we were all generally good kids on the bus. Loud, as most kids are and a little fidgety, sometimes he'd yell his catchphrase, "TURN AROUND AND SIT! DOWN!" Then you knew you were getting out of hand. Then one day he retired. Replacement? A devil woman named Debbie.
Debbie had a daughter who was in my brother’s grade; two under mine and they both hated me. Not sure what I did, but I sure didn't like them either. I had the notion that if they stayed out of my business, I’d stay out of theirs. Debbie had this thing. I thought she hated kids. It might have been just that. Her rules were that you were to sit in arranged seating and that your back must be touching the back of the seat at all times and that you can only talk to the person beside you in your seat. No one else. She sat me, in grade 5 or 6 with a kindergartener who got on the bus three minutes before we got to school. So all the while, I was to not talk to anyone, which was hard for me to do on the bus ride home when I talked more than anyone before that.
Beyond that, busses work like a hierarchy. Oldest kids at the back. That's how it was always done. If you were younger and you snatched a back seat you better know the oldest kids or you'll have trouble. Every now and then Debbie would change some seats around and I always hoped she'd call for me because I was not happy where I was. Turned out she did call me....closer to the front, maybe 5 rows behind her. Her daughter? The one two grades under me, two grades under 15 other kids on the bus gets the back seat with all her friends. This was not random judgments. This was a conspiracy. The daughter would talk loud with her friends and give me dirty looks. I’d look up at Debbie to see what she’d say, because if it were anybody else being that loud they’d be yelled at something fierce. Enough to scare me good. Debbie just flashed a dirty look at me too. That bus with her was like military training, only with kids and lunchboxes. Only we all knew that it wasn’t fair. Every year for that first bus driver all the kids would give the oldest kids money to get something for him for Christmas. We did this for Debbie too, but we did it unwillingly. She never got anything nice, no bright colors. I think for three years straight she got a pair of brown work gloves, though we should have got her a copy of the newspaper with the classifieds circled nice and big.
For a while I had been thinking, in one of the front seats of that damn bus on how I could get back at Debbie. Even the score or one-up her even. I thought of something that at the time could be used as a big weapon. Swear words. So one day at home I made a mix tape and in the middle of the song put in another song that consisted of only swear words. I was sure she’d stop it pretty fast, but these words were pretty fast and I thought enough would play before she got to stop the tape.
So one day on the bus ride home I give this weapon-tape to a kindergartener to give to Debbie, because she wouldn’t actually think it was his, I thought. She puts it in and everything goes normal and then it starts. The bus suddenly goes quiet and swear words are coming out a mile a minute and about seven seconds in the tape stops and so does the bus. Some kids laugh a little then stop as fast as they started as Debbie looks raging.
I was a little nervous, but thought I wouldn’t get caught. Debbie took the tape out of the player, got out of her seat and faced all us kids in the back. Everyone’s quiet. Everyone’s looking at her. Some of the younger kids are covering their eyes. Debbie looks at the tape and reads out loud, “Jamie’s mix tape.” I freeze. The little kid next to me scooches away not wanting trouble by association.
I wonder how it’s going to go. In the time span of 4 seconds I think, “is she going to make me walk home, or worse, go back to school??” I just wanted to go home to my family. Stupid tape. I had used that tape for years putting new stuff overtop old stuff again and again and I forget the stupid name label.
I can’t remember much of that conversation with her as I was in a considerable amount of shock. If I had had a rock in my hand I’m sure I would have crushed it. Turned out I had to stay inside for a few recesses…community service….and sit alone at the front of the bus for a month….jail time…..and I always thought of why things didn’t go the way I thought they would.
The next year we had a new bus driver Debbie and her daughter left town. It was great. I liken the bus years with Debbie to a PG rated Shawshank Redemption. Get busy living, get busy bussing. That’s God-damned right.
Debbie had a daughter who was in my brother’s grade; two under mine and they both hated me. Not sure what I did, but I sure didn't like them either. I had the notion that if they stayed out of my business, I’d stay out of theirs. Debbie had this thing. I thought she hated kids. It might have been just that. Her rules were that you were to sit in arranged seating and that your back must be touching the back of the seat at all times and that you can only talk to the person beside you in your seat. No one else. She sat me, in grade 5 or 6 with a kindergartener who got on the bus three minutes before we got to school. So all the while, I was to not talk to anyone, which was hard for me to do on the bus ride home when I talked more than anyone before that.
Beyond that, busses work like a hierarchy. Oldest kids at the back. That's how it was always done. If you were younger and you snatched a back seat you better know the oldest kids or you'll have trouble. Every now and then Debbie would change some seats around and I always hoped she'd call for me because I was not happy where I was. Turned out she did call me....closer to the front, maybe 5 rows behind her. Her daughter? The one two grades under me, two grades under 15 other kids on the bus gets the back seat with all her friends. This was not random judgments. This was a conspiracy. The daughter would talk loud with her friends and give me dirty looks. I’d look up at Debbie to see what she’d say, because if it were anybody else being that loud they’d be yelled at something fierce. Enough to scare me good. Debbie just flashed a dirty look at me too. That bus with her was like military training, only with kids and lunchboxes. Only we all knew that it wasn’t fair. Every year for that first bus driver all the kids would give the oldest kids money to get something for him for Christmas. We did this for Debbie too, but we did it unwillingly. She never got anything nice, no bright colors. I think for three years straight she got a pair of brown work gloves, though we should have got her a copy of the newspaper with the classifieds circled nice and big.
For a while I had been thinking, in one of the front seats of that damn bus on how I could get back at Debbie. Even the score or one-up her even. I thought of something that at the time could be used as a big weapon. Swear words. So one day at home I made a mix tape and in the middle of the song put in another song that consisted of only swear words. I was sure she’d stop it pretty fast, but these words were pretty fast and I thought enough would play before she got to stop the tape.
So one day on the bus ride home I give this weapon-tape to a kindergartener to give to Debbie, because she wouldn’t actually think it was his, I thought. She puts it in and everything goes normal and then it starts. The bus suddenly goes quiet and swear words are coming out a mile a minute and about seven seconds in the tape stops and so does the bus. Some kids laugh a little then stop as fast as they started as Debbie looks raging.
I was a little nervous, but thought I wouldn’t get caught. Debbie took the tape out of the player, got out of her seat and faced all us kids in the back. Everyone’s quiet. Everyone’s looking at her. Some of the younger kids are covering their eyes. Debbie looks at the tape and reads out loud, “Jamie’s mix tape.” I freeze. The little kid next to me scooches away not wanting trouble by association.
I wonder how it’s going to go. In the time span of 4 seconds I think, “is she going to make me walk home, or worse, go back to school??” I just wanted to go home to my family. Stupid tape. I had used that tape for years putting new stuff overtop old stuff again and again and I forget the stupid name label.
I can’t remember much of that conversation with her as I was in a considerable amount of shock. If I had had a rock in my hand I’m sure I would have crushed it. Turned out I had to stay inside for a few recesses…community service….and sit alone at the front of the bus for a month….jail time…..and I always thought of why things didn’t go the way I thought they would.
The next year we had a new bus driver Debbie and her daughter left town. It was great. I liken the bus years with Debbie to a PG rated Shawshank Redemption. Get busy living, get busy bussing. That’s God-damned right.
posted by . jdzer0 at
10:55 AM
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