Boarding the (Old Fogey) Bus

When I was a little girl in the late 70s, the yellow school bus picked me up at dark thirty in the morning and bounced me around bumpy country roads before parking at the “bus barn” — a large parking lot next to the high school where the kids transferred from their neighborhood buses to the ones that would then drive them to their respective schools. ┬áDe-segretation meant the district no longer had neighborhood schools. But that’s not what I’m remembering today. What strikes me today is the weird feeling I had each morning as I sat in my bus … Continue reading Boarding the (Old Fogey) Bus