As the youngest of 5 children, I had a rather privileged position. While the rest of my siblings got up early to do chores, have breakfast, then head off to school, I got to sleep in.
I missed my siblings terribly, though. Especially my youngest brother, whom I adored to the point of irritation. I had a serious case of hero worship with him, as well as my sister. I drove them nuts, I'm sure. The high point of my day was watching and waiting for the bus to drop them all off after school. When I saw that distinctive yellow colour flashing through the trees, I'd be out the door and flying down the driveway to meet my sister and brothers, shouting with excitement and giving them all hugs. I eagerly looked forward to the day I could finally join them on that bus, and couldn't wait to start school!
That day finally came, and I was so thrilled! There I was, with my lunch box, waiting at the end of the driveway with my siblings. When the bus arrived, we all lined up, automatically from youngest to oldest, to get on.
Back then, my home town still had its own school, so the ride was relatively short, with only a few more farms between us and the school that we had to stop at. I saw farms I never new existed until then, as we simply never had reason to go down those roads.
The school had two classrooms, an office and boys and girls bathrooms. There was one teacher, and students only went up to grade three. There were so few students, grades K-3 were all in one classroom. The other served as a gym or, if the weather was unpleasant, for recess and lunch breaks.
Of the day itself, I don't remember very much. I remember being suitably impressed by my teacher, Miss B. She was tall and thin, had long, straight brown hair, and wore a brightly coloured dress. Mostly a reddish orange colour that day, from what I remember. Growing up on the farm, this was all rather exotic. Sure, my sister had long, straight brown hair, too, but not almost to her waist, and she certainly didn't keep it down like that all the time. Long hair was a danger on the farm, so if we had it, it was usually tied back. Dresses, meanwhile, were things worn for church and special occasions, since they weren't very practical for milking cows or feeding chickens. Dresses were certainly not for every day!
It's the end of my first day that really stands out in my memory. The day was done and we were all standing outside the front doors of the school, waiting for our buses.
Imagine my surprise when something like 5 or 6 different buses pulled into the school yard! I did know that the bus that picked up my siblings wasn't the only one - I would see another drive past our place on a different road every weekday - but I had no idea there were so many, nor did I know which one I was supposed to go to! I watched and waited while the other kids got on different buses, looking around, tyring to figure out what I was supposed to do. One by one, the buses closed their doors and drove away.
Finally, just as the last bus was getting ready to leave, I made a run for it. The driver opened the door and let me in.
I'd never seen him before.
I started down the aisle of the bus, but not a single seat was available. So I turned around to face the front, grabbed onto the backs of the seats beside me, and prepared to stand for my ride home. Still heady with excitement from my first day of school, it never occurred to me that this was a problem.
I don't remember what the driver said exactly, but he had no idea who I was either, and I wasn't supposed to be there. He wanted me to get off. Towards the back of the bus, a couple of teen girls spoke up. I recognised them as sisters from one of our "neighbouring" farms (they lived some 5 or 6 miles away from our farm). They tried to talk the driver into taking me anyhow, since their route went right past our farm, though it didn't turn down the road to our driveway. It turned out that this was the bus I saw driving past every weekday. The driver refused, saying he wasn't able to take me. I had to get off the bus.
By that point, my predicament had soaked in. I was in tears getting off the bus and ran, crying, back to the school. I couldn't get home! It never occurred to me that there was any other way I could get home than by bus. What was I going to do?
Miss B. took me inside while that last bus drove away without me. She sat me down at one of the desks and tried to console me, but I was inconsolable. I wailed my little heart out.
That's when she broke out the big guns. She opened up a closet door and took out...
...a chocolate bar!
This was a wonder to me! Chocolate bars were things we rarely ever got. Now, here was Miss B., magically producing this rarity and handing it to me! To this day, whenever I go into that old school, which is now a summer-only flea market, I look at that closet door and remember it was from behind that door that a secret gift emerged, soothing my broken heart with the wonder of a treat, just for me! My tears instantly dried up, and joy replaced my sadness. Which also conveniently allowed Miss B. a chance to go into the office and phone my parents. She stayed and talked with me, letting me know they would come and get me, and generally keeping me comforted. I have no idea what she said, but whatever it was, by the time my mom arrived to pick me up, I was all smiles again. I do remember being surprised that this was even an option. Somehow, I just didn't think that my parents would be able to do such a thing. Taking the car out for something other than church, grocery shopping, or rare trips to the city? What a concept!
When I got home, my youngest brother was waiting for me. He was visibly upset and kept saying how it was all his fault I was left behind; how he should have gone to the door of the bus and stood there so I could see him, and that he should have made sure that I got on. I was quite surprised by this. While I adored my brother, I was really quite a pest in that stereotypical little sister way. The youngest of my brothers is only 3 years older than me. My sister, on the other hand, is 10 years older than me, and there were two other brothers who really should have noticed that I hadn't got on the bus. Yet my youngest brother was the one who was the most distraught and felt the most responsibility over my not getting on the bus. I was confused and surprised by his reaction, and quite touched as well.
The next while was spent explaining to me exactly how to tell our bus apart from all the others.
I learned a few lessons from school that day. One was that not all buses would take me Home, even if they drove right past Home anyway. I learned that a simple chocolate bar can cheer a sad and frightened child. I learned that my parents really could, and would, come and get me.
And I learned that my youngest brother cared about me a lot more then he let on.
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