The Bus Stop

On the way in to work this morning, I noticed small throngs of kids waiting for the school bus at the corner near our house. What I also noticed was that there were some people my age, parents apparently, hanging out with them, both inside and outside their parked, still running, vehicles.

Something has obviously changed since I was a school bus rider. For starters, I waited alone, in the dark, for the school bus at the end of my driveway as an elementary schooler. By the time middle school rolled around, we had moved, and the sins of the past (namely making good grades and being pudgy) had been buried with my old address, so I waited for the bus with a handful of other kids down at the corner.

I don't remember my parents ever waiting for the bus with me, or watching me from a parked car while enjoying the morning paper and a cruller. I was pushed quietly out the door at 7am, and a while later, I'm sure one of my folks checked the end of the driveway for bloodstains or discarded clothing.

During the winter months, I've noticed that the kids in our neighborhood don't even bother to get out of their parent's cars. They sit in the heat listening to the radio and dive out when the bus approaches.

In contrast, I can remember boarding the school bus during the winter months and feeling the slow burn as the blood flow resumed to my ears and fingers, activating what would inevitably be frost bite by the end of the school day. I was never the type to wreck a perfectly planned outfit with accessories like gloves or a hat, choosing instead to further damage an already debatable looking face with red splotches -- the human equivalent of freezer burn.

I'm not trying to be all "10 miles in the snow both ways," but come on. What does it teach our kids when we don't even let them wait for the bus alone in a well lit, heavily populated neighborhood? If not at the school bus stop, where else will they learn to fight off an abductor while suffering the early effects of hypothermia?