Life in progress


#SoCS – Bussing

If a busser bussing tables runs into you in a restaurant, is it like getting hit by a bus? I’ve always wondered why they call it “bussing.” And why does my spell-check not like the word? Does it like “busing” better? Yes, it does. When I finish this post, I’ll check to see if it’s a Canadian spelling. Spell-check also doesn’t like “colour,” after all.

I never took a bus to school. It was only half a mile to walk, so they let me walk. Even when I was five and six, I was walking to school by myself. There weren’t many crazies about. But I do remember sitting on the curb on the way home from school one day with a friend, and we were throwing stones under cars as they went by. One woman stopped and yelled at us, even though we didn’t actually hit her car. By then we were getting good at clearing the wheels before the car got past. We stopped after the lady yelled at us… until the next day. I think I eventually got bored with it.

What I did do when I was little was make up stories in my head. All the time. That is something I still haven’t gotten bored with.

My kids have always taken the bus to school. When we lived in Gatineau, Quebec, the school board payed a student $5/day to sit with my Autistic son, Chris, on the bus. The first year a student we didn’t know did it, but after that they let his brother do it. Years later, I still have all that money sitting in a bank account for him, for when/if he decides to go to college.

I’m actually appalled at the fact that they no longer have an aide on the bus my Deaf son, Alex, takes to and from school. The bus driver doesn’t know sign language, and the kids, by the time June comes, are up to all kinds of antics. I should probably advocate for an aide.


This post is brought (not by bus) to you as a response to Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click the link for the prompt and join in today!