The Wheels on the Bus

As a squishy little second grader at East Pike Elementary School, the bus stop on Sixth and Chestnut Streets seemed like a huge unruly mob to me.

Somehow, by the time the bus showed up, the kids at our stop had already climbed trees, thrown chestnuts, knocked books to the ground, acquired fresh grass stains, and executed several wedgie attacks. Much of the shenanigans were prompted by the older boys, which included my 5^th grade brother.

Boarding the bus each morning, I found my assigned seat in a way which would attract the least amount of attention, so as to ward off the onslaught of daily harassment that might follow.

Most days, I kept a low profile (literally, since I was kinda short and could hide behind the green vinyl seatback,) but this particular fall, I was forced to take my turn as the subject of public humiliation.

My brother’s gang had been ordered by the driver to sit in the front seats of the bus due to their consistently boisterous behavior, but rather than serving as a penalty box, the front seats were ironically more of a podium, effectively making the gang of boys our sadistic morning dictators.

Snorting and giggling, the boys would lead chants and jeers targeting particular riders in a twisted game of Russian roulette. One morning, the barrel of their gun was pointed at me, and the chamber was full.

Quite fond of nicknames, my brother had a vast repertoire of epithets for kids in our neighborhood, our pets, and unfortunately, me. I was called Bubbs, Bubbs McGraw, Chunk, Chunky Dinners, Chung King, Skunk, Skunkgrass, and Pig (which was later outlawed by my parents so he reversed the letters and deceitfully referred to me as “Gip.”)

A rare summer trip to Hawaii to visit our grandparents inspired my brother to add the Polynesian nickname “Lee Lae Lon” to his inventory. Despite being meaningless, I hated the name, which was exactly what my brother wanted. Unable to come up with a retaliatory name other than “Big Meanie,” I soon learned that incessant whining was my only recourse.

After tiring of leading the kids on the bus in several rounds of an old standby chant (“Thad’s on the toilet, ooh, ahh; Thad’s on the toilet, ooh, ahh”) which targeted a shy boy in the back, my brother and his gang turned their attention to me.

“Gimmie an L!” my brother’s hulkish friend, Jimmy, yelled in front of us. Everyone looked confused, so Jimmy yelled the order again, and the crowd hesitantly responded, “L?”

Jimmy and the gang of boys continued, “Gimme an E!” Even I repeated, “E!” and the chant gained momentum.

After L and E, Jimmy added another E, then another L, and so on, until he screamed “What’s it spell?!” No response was forthcoming from the confused riders, but Jimmy’s gang yelled the pre-planned answer: “Lee Lae Lon!”

“Who’s a Pig?!”

“Lee Lae Lon!”

“Louder!”

“Lee Lae Lon!”

Other than the sniveling gang of boys, no one initially understood the chant, but it soon became a well-known part of the morning regimen dictated by the boys in the front of the bus. Thankfully, I was not singled out again after that fateful fall and went on to have many pleasantly uneventful bus rides to school in the years to come.

I only have one other less-than-fond memory of my school bus days: During my secondary years, our bus had an outdated 8-track tape deck with only one tape. Every verse of AC/DC’s “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” has been seared into my brain forever.

Despite it all, I am sad that my own kids won’t suffer the slings and arrows of riding the school bus this year. Due to drastic education budget cuts, many kids like mine have been told that the bus isn’t stopping at their school anymore.

A couple months ago, our school district announced that transportation to seven of the county’s best schools would be cancelled, so in the face of high gas prices and tight family budgets, parents like us are scrambling to find carpools to get our kids to school.

Seems that lately, as the price of gold goes up, the value of the Golden Rule goes down, and school districts across this nation are cutting education bedrocks such as sports, art, music, physical education and transportation. Some politicians feel these cuts are just part of necessary reductions in spending, others say taxes must be raised to keep these programs afloat. Regardless of political leanings, many consider it tragic that our children’s educations and ultimately their futures will be compromised by our generation’s economic failures.

The yellow school bus has always been an integral part of our public education system, and despite my own mixed experiences on the bus, I hope the cuts to school transportation and other fundamental programs are only temporary.

As for my kids, they will be sitting in the back of a carpool minivan on their way to school this year. I will try to make their experience as memorable as mine, but without a good old AC/DC tape or the manpower to muster a humiliating chant, the kids in my carpool will have to settle for mumbling along to a song on the radio.

 
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