I had a bus nightmare last night. It wasn't the stuck-in-the-bus, monsters-attack scenario you may be imagining if you've ever watched Jeepers Creepers 2. It's the memories inside the bus that haunt me.
A few years back, I was driving home after work as a teacher, when something caught my eye. A person was running out in the middle of the four lanes of traffic. I panicked when I realized it was one of my students, darting between vehicles to make his way safely to the other side. I breathed a sigh of relief when he casually began walking on the sidewalk again. The next day, I asked that student to stay after school. I expressed how dangerous his walk home was and told him how I worried about him and wanted him to take the bus instead. I saw the immediate panic in his eyes. He began to beg me not to make him do that and swore he'd be careful. I remembered that panic. I remembered when I would have rather run through 4 lanes of traffic than step foot on a school bus.
Buses were always lousy. So many field trips where we were asked to "Pair up!" and I was left on the bench alone, kids walking making comments like "Ew, I'm not sitting with her" or shoving 3 to a bench rather than be my partner. The middle school girls that gossiped from across the aisle: "What is she even wearing?" or "Why is she even on the team when she can't even run across the court?"
For reasons still unknown to me, by high school, my breasts were the topic of school-wide derision. Snide remarks as I loaded my duffel bag onto the seat beside me, desperately trying to provide some type of shield. "Did you pack a good sports bra? Don't know how you can play volleyball with those things flopping around?" I sat close to the front. Although unspoken, I knew the back was off-limits to me, but the proximity to teachers/coaches/counselors never seemed to help. They chatted to each other, oblivious to the torment I endured. (After being a teacher, I understand they were just enjoying adult conversation, but at the time it seemed like a purposeful affront.) Once, on a trip to a drama performance, there was an entire sport made out of flicking scraps of paper in hopes of hitting my cleavage. Girls seemed to love to see me squirm and got more ruthless, asking if I'd let certain boys motorboat me. When I didn't know what that meant, I was the target of laughter for weeks.
Boys were not better. I'm sure it was boys that instigated the paper flicking. On a few trips, a boy would sit next to me and I began to wish I was a social pariah again, sitting alone. They would find ways to touch and graze by me and I was so uncomfortable. I assumed something was wrong with me because I didn't like their attention. Did I even like guys? If not, would my friends and family hate me? Once, I was wearing a skirt on a trip and a guy wrote on my leg "Enter Here" with pen. I have no idea why I didn't stop him. I guess I froze. But I do remember the teacher scolding me when I asked to go wash my leg off when we reached our destination. I needed to stop "messing around."
I'm not saying that buses were the cause of my problems. Kids can be mean in any location. Bullies have a knack for finding places where adults aren't around. But when someone, like my student, doesn't want to do something, there's usually a very good reason. He never told what happened to him, but I never told anyone what happened to me either (until now). Sometimes, we speak out in different ways. This particular student would often yell at me, refuse to do work, or even throw things on the ground during class in frustration. I asked that kid to stay with me after class for 15 extra minutes to avoid the worst traffic for the rest of that school year, promising I wouldn't tell the principal or ever force him to take the bus. Each day, as the other students piled out at the bell, he would plop down on the couch by the bookshelf. I would see his body relax. He was suddenly calm and would chat with me about his brothers or video games. I think sitting there with him after school is one of my fondest memories as a teacher. I was lucky to have had teachers that provided those safe spaces for me when I avoided the cafeteria at lunch or needed a place to go after school too. After nightmares, I always think about the safe spaces in my life. Places like the front room of our house watching TV after school with my siblings or in my bed curled up next to my cat. It makes me feel calmer too.
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