School Bus Pal

Recently my husband and I were off on a shopping trip and he happened to mention that he ran into someone I barely knew as a child. The name brought back memories of my days long ago. The guy he ran into was a high school student on the bus I rode to school in the morning when I was in grade school.

Back in the mid 70s I rode a rough school bus. I say that because there were a lot of unruly teenage boys in the back who were always in trouble. It was normal for the driver to stop the bus at least once a day and walk through the aisle to the back to handle a situation.

I was still a baby, barely out of kindergarten. My father advised me to always sit in the seat directly behind the driver so he could take care of me on the bus. This is where I sat every day.

The boys were very disrespectful to the driver and many times he stopped to break up a fight or to settle down something going on. I was terrified every time the bus came to a halt. Silence reigned the moment it was apparent we were stopping yet again. The silence didn’t bother me. Fear of the driver did, although he was always nice to me.

I was comforted most times by another girl who rode the bus. She and her brother were older than I. They lived a few miles away from me and my father knew the family. Vera was a beautiful girl with long dark braids and a pleasant smile. She became my bus friend.

Every day Vera would sit with me and be my big sister on the bus. I was so grateful for her being there. She kept me from being afraid. She was quiet herself, yet I trusted that she could put a comforting arm around me when I needed someone.

My father pulled me from the bus by the time I was in 5^th grade. Things had progressively become worse. There was a change in bus drivers. The new one had no control over the students. When there was rumor of students having sex on a bus my father had enough. He pulled us off and began to take us to school and pick us up himself.

Vera went to “the big school” so I didn’t see her after I was pulled from the bus. We lost touch and I grew up. And yet she had enough of an impact on my life that even now when I see a girl with long dark braids I am reminded of Vera. I find myself wondering what she grew up to become and where she ended up.

God bless all those out there like Vera who are willing to be a big sister or brother to a child who seems lost or confused. People like these change lives.