By Carl Dow
Driving a schoolbus has been my all-time favourite occupation. I did it for eight years and here are just five reasons why.
I had a noon kindergarten run out of Ottawa’s Elgin Street School. There were about 30 four and five year-olds. The first day, I headed south on Elgin, right on Gladstone to O'Connor, where I stopped for a red light before making a left turn. As I paused at the light, 30 high-pitched voices began to chant: Y-M-C-A! Y-M-C-A! Y-M-C-A!
Holy Moly! I thought, they're going to pierce my eardrums. About 15 of them were being dropped at the YMCA on Argyle for a daycare centre.
The next day, as we approached O'Connor and Gladstone,
they began the chant. I held up my right hand and said, "No yet! Not yet!"
And they fell to pin-hearing silence. As I made the turn onto
Argyle, I dropped my hand and said, "Now!" Then there came the Y-M-C-A!
chorus. My sense of accomplishment lasted only 24 hours. On the third day as
we approached Gladstone and O'Connor the bus filled with, "Not yet! Not
yet!" My heart filled with joy at the sound of these creative spirits. I
decided my eardrums could handle it for a couple of short blocks.
At another time on the same run, only now on the way back from picking up
the afternoon class, I was thinking about my writing as we were gently
proceeding north on Metcalfe and I forgot to make the turn for the school.
Alert as ever the children started to yell, "Carl! You missed the turn!"
"That's okay," I said, so as not to alarm them, "we have time, so I thought
we'd take an extra run around the block." Right on top of what I said came
a full schoolbus chanting: "Next stop Jurassic Park! Next stop Jurassic
Park! Next stop Jurassic Park!"
Once, those who remained after the YMCA drop-off, were silent below the roar
of the engine for about ten minutes as we made our way, then suddenly they
began chanting: "Carl! Carl! Sit beside us!" As soon as there was a pause I
shouted back, "I'd love to! I'd love to! But I got to drive the bus!"
One year I picked up and delivered about 20 special education children. These students were all very bright but they had one or more major failings. For example, one of the passengers couldn't handle arithmetic, but when it came to history and geography, he was as well informed as a university student. He was the biggest of the bunch and tended to be quiet and reserved, if not a little grumpy. I would sing songs as part of the entertainment. One of them, to the tune of America the Beautiful, went like this: "Mongolia, Mongolia from sea to shining sea; Mongolia, Mongolia God sheds His light on thee." The historian didn't say a word the first time he heard it, but next morning as soon as he got on the bus he growled, "Mongolia doesn't have a sea shore!" I smiled and said, "I just wanted to see if you were with us."
Another song I made up was to a tune that would be sure to date me. It was a
popular novelty song that came out about the same time as "How much is that
doggy in the window" sung by the late Peggy Lee. The words that
I put to the former tune were: "Be nice now, be nice later; be nice like a
sweet po-tate-er." All the passengers sang it except our historian. One
day he got on the bus, entering the usual morning sleepy silence. No sooner had
he sat down than he sang out: "Be nice now, be nice later; be nice like a
sweet po-tate-er." Then he seized the corners of his mouth, pulled hard, and
said, "Arrgh! I've been infected!" The bus filled with laughter, including
his.
To quote actor Lillian Gish in the final scene in that quality horror movie,
Night of the Hunter, directed by Charles Laughton: "God bless little
children. God bless 'em, everyone."
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