The best part of my school day must be bus duty. I know a lot of other educators have bemoaned this “additional duty as assigned,” but I’ve signed up for it year after year (there isn’t much competition). In the beginning, my first year as a long-term sub, I was assigned it for the simple reason that new folk are assigned outside while veteran teachers get the inside. And why? It gets cold in the winter and hot in the summer.
But I think there’s more to it. I think we’re afraid of people.
The little ones are fine; we are trained to work with them. That bus pulls up—the kids are so sleepy—and I get a little shot of adrenaline, jumping up and down, singing, and dancing. Most of the songs are impromptu, and definitely the dances are, but my excitement is not. The kids are here, and I get to spend hours working with them.
Oh, trust me, that’s not my normal mood. That’s the bus duty mood. Once I step into Laurel Elementary School, I’m as susceptible to the funk as anyone. On top of that, I’m not a morning person. But I am a firm believer in Effort Over Energy: when lacking on what energy naturally provides, we need to put in the effort.
This year is my second year at Laurel ES. I volunteered to do bus duty because I’ve always loved it. But things are a little different here than where I used to work. Before, I was in charge of arrival and dismissal; here I’m just “cone guy.” And because of the way the bus lane works, I don’t actually get to greet the kids. I wave as they drive by, and Mr. Harris or Ms. Dunham says good morning closer to the entrance. I’ve pretty much stopped singing and dancing. And let me tell you, I’m putting in a lot more effort. My view of bus duty has begun to change day by day.
Let me tell you more about where I stand. Imagine a long U with the school sitting at the bottom. I’m standing at the top left part of the U, where the bus lane meets Montgomery Street. Cars drive past in both directions; some of them are parents dropping off students, and some are just neighborhood people heading to work or yoga or wherever. At first, I tried to wave at only the parents dropping their kids off, because that’s a friendly thing to do and it helps build the welcoming reputation of the school. But I made so many mistakes waving at random cars that I decided to just wave at everyone.
Well, almost everyone. I wouldn’t wave at cars with windows so dark I couldn’t see the people inside. What was the point? And there is something about a tinted window I can’t trust. Oh, and loud cars. I wouldn’t wave at people trying to be heard or not trying to be seen.
In the beginning, as parents began to recognize me, they would wave back. And then the kids would wave back. And then the random people would even wave back. Even the morning grumps—people I could empathize with—eventually broke down and would smile and wave back. Steve and Kathy walk by with their dogs almost every morning. Officer Tony has become a good friend of mine. My Scouting family—Mr. Tubbs, Mr. Magno, and the Millers—sometimes drive by with a honk. Councilman Simmons has ridden his bike past on his way to work. I get the biggest grins from the city’s public works employees. It is rare to feel this strong a sense of community anymore.
So, one morning, a loud truck with black, tinted windows passed by. The sun was in my eyes, so I waved before I could see that it was one of those cars I don’t wave to. The truck honked in return—a train horn. I stared at it as it rolled towards Fifth Street, and I felt something shift in my heart.
It was uncomfortable, believe me, but I began to wave even at the tinted windows. That truck comes by almost every morning and blasts that greeting. A few of the tinted window people have begun rolling their windows down and waving back. I started thinking ... maybe they tint their windows because they too are afraid of people. Many teachers don’t want to “deal with” parents driving into the bus lane or feel the discomfort of strangers driving by at one of the worst times of the day. Maybe those strangers don’t want to feel the discomfort either, so they hide inside too.
I can’t make people happy, or feel special, or have a good morning. The best I can do is sing and dance and hope it helps. From the looks of it, the effort is worth it. I got so caught up in who I was afraid of, who I didn’t like, that I was withholding some of my joy on account of others. I wonder if that’s why I mourn going back inside after duty; lots of people hide behind tinted windows. I just need to learn to put those biases aside and wave at everyone. These days, it feels like no one is a stranger on Montgomery Street between 7:00am and 7:30am.
That’s an additional duty worth being assigned.
Shane Walker is the Media Specialist at Laurel Elementary School. More than a lifetime resident in Laurel, he is a lifetime member of its greater community. As a writer, he focuses on inspiring harmony through diversity of thought.
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