If you read part 1, you know that school started for my kids three weeks ago and that thus far their “regular”school bus driver was present and accounted for precisely five of those fifteen school days, having taken a smattering of days off, culminating in a full blown week-long scheduled vacation. This leaves me wondering whether announcing that she was our “regular” school bus driver wasn’t referring to her bowel habits and not her work habits.
So today she was back from her vacation. Well, maybe she was. She didn’t come back to work though. Is she coming back or isn’t she? Did she flee to destinations unknown? I have no idea if school bus drivers have many advancement opportunities but I didn’t think they had any embezzlement opportunities.
Meanwhile in her absence, my kids’ bus route has had various revolving school bus drivers.
Since I stand like a tree stump blocking the roadway while my children cross over to the door side, I can’t really describe the different school bus drivers, but I know they’re different. It’s not that I can see their faces or anything. I’m both quite short and quite near-sighted. But I know that there have been at least four different drivers. Call it my intense Murder She Wrote and Columbo training, but I’ve become quite adept at discerning which left arm I see dangling out of that little school bus driver’s window. In those scant three weeks, I have already assessed skin tone, tautness… These are my findings:
All of the arms are female. Two are in their mid-thirties. One is in its late forties. Three appear to be Caucasian limbs. One seems to be African American. One has a tattoo of a rose. One does bicep curls. The others do not. And if any of these women injects Heroin, it’s not into her left arm.
Hopefully it will never come to that, but I feel I’d be a competent witness in a police line-up: “Could you have #3 roll up her sleeve please? The other one.”
All of the school bus drivers do hand signals to my kids designed to tell them when it’s safe to cross. I can do the alphabet in American Sign Language. I know all of the official baseball signs; I know all of the official football signs; and I had a bad case of road rage in NYC that lasted thirty years. But I have no idea what the hell these bus shadow puppet signs are supposed to mean. And more important… neither do my kids.
My kids have been instructed that despite the flashing red lights, the flung out stop sign and their mother barricading the roadway with her body, they are to look up to the school bus driver, awaiting her signs that it is safe to cross. So every day, they step off the bus and look up. Okay, she gave the “stop” sign. Okay, that one’s clear. Now it gets sketchy. “Thumbs up”. Okay, they’re good to go. They start to move forward. Wait. No. The stop sign hand goes up again. (Is this woman even directing them or is she just singing along to a Supremes song on the radio?)
“Thumbs up” apparently wasn’t the “Okay to move” sign after all. So my kids rock back into their original positions. This is lovely. Traffic is backed-up three blocks deep. I’m standing in the middle of the street facing oncoming traffic- my headlights playing chicken with their headlights- and there are my kids stutter-stepping and rocking back and forth. One looks like he’s doing the cha-cha, one looks like a hobby horse, and the other ran up the back of both of them like it’s a Three Stooges routine.
Join me next week for more on the Bus STOP! saga. If you’ve enjoyed this post, I know you’ll really like my latest little eBook: Laughing IS Conceivable: From End of School to Back-to-School (I love my kids. I love my kids. I LOVE MY KIDS!). Available on all Amazons & Free at the Kindle Library.
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