A Bad Day
The other day I was leaving Mable Rush Elementary School and came to the four-way stop a block from the school. It was my turn to go and as I pulled out, a car on my left ran the stop sign and came skidding to a stop about five feet from my front bumper. As I looked into the car that had a handicap parking sign hanging from the rearview vision mirror, the driver had a look of shocked relief on her face. But there was also (and of course this is my interpretation) a weary look of "What next?," on her face. The first thought that entered my mind, literally, was, "This lady is having a bad day," and a feeling of mercy followed.
I'm not trying to pat myself on the back here, because of how I reacted. I'm just saying that the look on this person's face touched something in me, and it wasn't hard to not resist getting angry. Anyway, I usually get angry when I'm scared, and when you're in a big bus that you don't own, what's to be scared of.
I'm sure I'll get to report a time when I get angry in traffic.
Pencils = 47
Monday, December 21, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
The Work of Deception
The other day my elementary students got a good talking to by one of the teachers for the way they were acting in the gymnasium where they were waiting for me to come and pick them up. They filed out to the bus looking subdued, like mine workers on their way to the center of the earth. Then the teacher came on the bus and gave them a parting warning shot, letting them know that if she received word that things didn’t go well on the ride home, there would be repercussions!! One of the first graders timidly asked what repercussions meant. “YOU’LL BE IN BIG TROUBLE,” was the answer. “Oh…”
After the teacher left the bus, I heard a frustrated voice about one-third of the way back on the bus say, “She’s just a big, fat lady.” I turned around, not sure who had said it, but having a pretty good idea of the general vicinity, and firmly asked who said that. Several fingers pointed to Jill (not her real name). But Jill, who was sitting by herself with an open book in her hand said, “I didn’t say it!! Bella did.” Bella looked stunned and denied saying it and turned the accusation back on Jill. Jill adamantly pleaded innocents saying, “I was just sitting here reading my book,” and she had the open book to prove it. Something you should know about Bella, she gets disciplined about forty times every day during her fifty minutes on the bus, mainly for standing up absentmindedly. But this situation created several problems for Jill. One, I know the sound of Bella’s energized voice, and it didn’t sound like her at all. Two, if people had an opportunity to get Bella in trouble, most of them would take it in a heartbeat. Bella has the ability to create waves among her fellow bus riders on the calmest of days. Three, there were just too many justice-seeking fingers pointing at Jill. And four, there is no way Bella could look innocent in a moment of guilt even if she was promised everyday for a whole year would be her birthday. I quelled the storm by saying that sort of thing will not be said on my bus, and got my seven wheels on the street.
Fifteen minutes later, when it came time for Jill to get off the bus, I stopped her. “I know it was you who made that comment.” Again she started to deny it, but I firmly just said, “Jill, I know you said it,” and her look of resistance faded. Then I said, “That was not a nice thing to say, but what concerns me more is how quickly you lied and blamed Bella. I know you were scared that you would get in trouble, but you don’t want to get into the habit of lying, even if it looks like a good way to get out of a mess.”
I’m still amazed at how easily and shrewdly Jill lied. I’ve watched her for almost one and half school years, and this behavior caught me off guard. But I probably shouldn’t be surprised. We learn early to be a deceptive lot in order to avoid pain. I know, that sort of behavior has created more than it’s fair share of problems in my life. God have mercy on Jill…and me, too.
Pencils = 45
The other day my elementary students got a good talking to by one of the teachers for the way they were acting in the gymnasium where they were waiting for me to come and pick them up. They filed out to the bus looking subdued, like mine workers on their way to the center of the earth. Then the teacher came on the bus and gave them a parting warning shot, letting them know that if she received word that things didn’t go well on the ride home, there would be repercussions!! One of the first graders timidly asked what repercussions meant. “YOU’LL BE IN BIG TROUBLE,” was the answer. “Oh…”
After the teacher left the bus, I heard a frustrated voice about one-third of the way back on the bus say, “She’s just a big, fat lady.” I turned around, not sure who had said it, but having a pretty good idea of the general vicinity, and firmly asked who said that. Several fingers pointed to Jill (not her real name). But Jill, who was sitting by herself with an open book in her hand said, “I didn’t say it!! Bella did.” Bella looked stunned and denied saying it and turned the accusation back on Jill. Jill adamantly pleaded innocents saying, “I was just sitting here reading my book,” and she had the open book to prove it. Something you should know about Bella, she gets disciplined about forty times every day during her fifty minutes on the bus, mainly for standing up absentmindedly. But this situation created several problems for Jill. One, I know the sound of Bella’s energized voice, and it didn’t sound like her at all. Two, if people had an opportunity to get Bella in trouble, most of them would take it in a heartbeat. Bella has the ability to create waves among her fellow bus riders on the calmest of days. Three, there were just too many justice-seeking fingers pointing at Jill. And four, there is no way Bella could look innocent in a moment of guilt even if she was promised everyday for a whole year would be her birthday. I quelled the storm by saying that sort of thing will not be said on my bus, and got my seven wheels on the street.
Fifteen minutes later, when it came time for Jill to get off the bus, I stopped her. “I know it was you who made that comment.” Again she started to deny it, but I firmly just said, “Jill, I know you said it,” and her look of resistance faded. Then I said, “That was not a nice thing to say, but what concerns me more is how quickly you lied and blamed Bella. I know you were scared that you would get in trouble, but you don’t want to get into the habit of lying, even if it looks like a good way to get out of a mess.”
I’m still amazed at how easily and shrewdly Jill lied. I’ve watched her for almost one and half school years, and this behavior caught me off guard. But I probably shouldn’t be surprised. We learn early to be a deceptive lot in order to avoid pain. I know, that sort of behavior has created more than it’s fair share of problems in my life. God have mercy on Jill…and me, too.
Pencils = 45
Friday, December 11, 2009
Where Are All The Right Handed Gloves?
I don’t know where I get it, but I am a scavenger at heart. These days this is especially true when I’m riding my bike back and forth to work. One of the items I regularly find, like once or twice a month, is gloves, especially the kind that are rubberized on the palm side and cloth on the backside.
But i have a question. Ninety-five percent of the time I find left-handed gloves. I don’t think this is an exaggeration. I saw another glove in the road today while driving my bus. I was sure it was a right-handed glove in good shape. But when I went back after work (this time in my truck), I found another left-handed glove, begging the question, where are all the right-handed gloves? Probably in the same place where all the missing socks are at. Either that or other people are looking for right-handed gloves, too, and are getting to the ones in the road before me and leaving the left-handed gloves behind. Miriam thinks it's because people wear out the right handed gloves faster, but then why do those people throw their left-handed gloves out in the road for me to find, knowing I can't resist picking them up? That's just mean.
Pencils = 43
I don’t know where I get it, but I am a scavenger at heart. These days this is especially true when I’m riding my bike back and forth to work. One of the items I regularly find, like once or twice a month, is gloves, especially the kind that are rubberized on the palm side and cloth on the backside.
But i have a question. Ninety-five percent of the time I find left-handed gloves. I don’t think this is an exaggeration. I saw another glove in the road today while driving my bus. I was sure it was a right-handed glove in good shape. But when I went back after work (this time in my truck), I found another left-handed glove, begging the question, where are all the right-handed gloves? Probably in the same place where all the missing socks are at. Either that or other people are looking for right-handed gloves, too, and are getting to the ones in the road before me and leaving the left-handed gloves behind. Miriam thinks it's because people wear out the right handed gloves faster, but then why do those people throw their left-handed gloves out in the road for me to find, knowing I can't resist picking them up? That's just mean.
Pencils = 43
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
What A Hug Taken In Draws Out
So I’ve become quite the hugger at the bus yard, especially in the mornings. I like to come in (at 6:00am-ish) and hug anyone and everyone who gets in my way. These are usually women who are about my age or older. I’ve got some regulars who’ve come to expect a morning hug: Grama, Kay, and Cene (pronounced seen). Then there is Cynthia and Carol who are regularly in the way. And oh….how could I forget, it all started with Lisa, the morning dispatcher and person who hands out our paychecks on Tuesday m0rnings.
There are some men who will also gladly receive a hug, but they aren’t going to go out of their way to get it or give an expectant look when I come around. Others are ambushed and basically tolerate it.
Another person who enjoys a good hug is Margarette. The first time I gave her a hug, which was just last week, she said, “Oh, I needed that.” That put her on my list of regulars. So yesterday morning she was sitting with some of the regulars when I was giving out the morning hugs. When I came to her, I hugged her and held on a bit longer. I said to her, “Take it in. You got to take a good hug in.” When I let go she said, “I don’t get many of those anymore since my husband past away.” I told her I had plenty of hugs and she could have one anytime she wanted, and she said, “I just miss being able to reach out and touch him and tell him I love him.” One good, long hug and look what comes tumbling out.
Ah Margarette, I was oblivious to your pain and loss. But now, by the grace of God, I get to bring some needed warmth and joy in your life. And that brings warmth and joy into my life. Hug on.
Pencils = 42
So I’ve become quite the hugger at the bus yard, especially in the mornings. I like to come in (at 6:00am-ish) and hug anyone and everyone who gets in my way. These are usually women who are about my age or older. I’ve got some regulars who’ve come to expect a morning hug: Grama, Kay, and Cene (pronounced seen). Then there is Cynthia and Carol who are regularly in the way. And oh….how could I forget, it all started with Lisa, the morning dispatcher and person who hands out our paychecks on Tuesday m0rnings.
There are some men who will also gladly receive a hug, but they aren’t going to go out of their way to get it or give an expectant look when I come around. Others are ambushed and basically tolerate it.
Another person who enjoys a good hug is Margarette. The first time I gave her a hug, which was just last week, she said, “Oh, I needed that.” That put her on my list of regulars. So yesterday morning she was sitting with some of the regulars when I was giving out the morning hugs. When I came to her, I hugged her and held on a bit longer. I said to her, “Take it in. You got to take a good hug in.” When I let go she said, “I don’t get many of those anymore since my husband past away.” I told her I had plenty of hugs and she could have one anytime she wanted, and she said, “I just miss being able to reach out and touch him and tell him I love him.” One good, long hug and look what comes tumbling out.
Ah Margarette, I was oblivious to your pain and loss. But now, by the grace of God, I get to bring some needed warmth and joy in your life. And that brings warmth and joy into my life. Hug on.
Pencils = 42
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