When I was in 9th grade, I had to catch the bus at 7:05am. The bus ride was long. I lived in a rural area and the school was around 20 minutes away if you drove directly there in your own vehicle. The bus ride was even longer. We had to go through our entire town to pick up kids. It was so long that the bus drove by my house a second time 40 minutes after my pick up time and then had around 10 more stops before it went directly to the school.
I thought that was absurd to try to spend 40 minutes extra on the bus, as it was hard enough to be ready that early and I didn’t have help at home with anything. I started catching the bus the second time it came by my house without asking and presuming it was fine. The bus driver stopped and let me on without saying anything to me and it worked well for about two weeks. That was when the bus driver said that my scheduled time to catch the bus was 7:05 and I needed to be there at that time or she would not pick me up. I asked why the two of us picked up on my street could not just both catch the bus the second time. She told me that was not the schedule.
I dropped my head and conceded. I never had grounds to challenge reason. I understood that she was trying to teach me that the world did not revolve around my whims and that I can’t have it my way when there is already a plan that works for everyone else. I didn’t complain to her. I didn’t complain to the school; they would agree with her. That was how it was supposed to be. I didn’t complain to my peers because I figured it wasn’t really that important in the grand scheme of things, but it was to me and has stuck with me to this day. I certainly did not complain to anyone in my household because it was my responsibility to get myself up, dressed, bathed, fed and off to school everyday. I was, after all, 14 years old.
I really did try to catch that first bus and I did it everyday for almost 2 weeks. Then, I slept in and missed the bus. I got up and ready as fast as I could, throwing on clothes without showering or brushing my teeth. I didn’t eat. I usually didn’t eat breakfast, in fact, basically never. I didn’t have time and we really didn’t have food for mornings. I ran to the bus stop ready for school, backpack on, ready to go and I waited. I knew is challenging the rules but I really had been trying to make it and it was one slip up after almost two weeks. Here came the bus. The bus driver looked right at me. She looked forward and, true to her word, drove right past me.
Well, I was dismayed and upset. She didn’t give me a second chance. She wouldn’t even try to help me out one time? At the same time, I was panic stricken. My heart was racing and I wanted to cry. How was I going to get to school? I had to take the bus to get there because it was too far to walk. There usually wasn’t anyone home or on the property that I could wake and if I could, it would be serious trouble to miss the bus. I was expected to care for all my needs and get myself to school. I had been calling my emergency contact through middle school and after my grandma left the house.
I walked about 3/4 of a mile and crossed the highway that lead to town to one of my mom’s friends’ house. She had kids my age that went to my school. I thought she would probably be up because her kids had to get to school and would have been up. They rode my bus. I had closer neighbors, but they were different kinds of people. We were fringers in society and didn’t belong to mainstream associations. My mom had always worked until her drug habits took over and she lost her job and self to terrible depression while in this awful abusive relationship with a person who wanted to control everything and everyone because she’d been overpowered too many times in her own life. At the time, I thought it was me that was treated the worst. I didn’t see my mom so I didn’t see what I went through and she didn’t see what I did. I wanted to come together to survive but keeping us separate kept us both weaker. That is just perspective though. Grandma had built her own life, reputation and fortune in the town but it didn’t carry us very far after she moved out of the house I was in.
I got to Whisper’s house and it was freezing in the late fall early morning, my lungs felt frozen from the trek up the hill and were tight with asthma. I knocked and no one came. I knocked louder. I waited, no one came or even stirred. They lived in a trailer, a lot of people did. We were rural and there wasn’t much to do or grow into. There was a payphone across the highway that I just crossed to get there. I ran back across the street to the front of the little cafe to use the pay phone. I dropped my quarter in and I dialed her phone number, that I of course had memorized. It rang at least 15 times. No one answered. I hung up and dropped my quarter back. She had to be there; I really hoped she was but just sleeping as my gut tightened because I really needed her. I was committed. I tried the payphone again and it rang until I was disconnected. I got my quarter back again. I tried a 3rd time. It rang 7 and 8 times, and then, Whisper answered. I froze silently. She’d probably be mad. I hung up. She knew we didn’t have a phone at home and used CB to talk to my mom. I waited about 5 minutes and jaywalked across the 4 lane highway when it was clear to knock on her door.
She answered, still in her pajamas and visibly sleepy and a bit confused. She let me in and told me how she had just been awakened by someone who called a hundred times but wasn’t even there when she answered. I said that I thought it was weird, but it was worked in my favor since she was awake and I needed help.
She drove me to school. It was 25 minutes there and then she drove home to whatever awaited her. She was 30 at the time and her son in my grade was 14 too. His younger sister was 12. Whisper would become a grandma when she was 34. People in my town were not encouraged to make it far if they didn’t come from money. I didn’t understand the classism because I fell from one class to another and never really belonged to any. My communities had always been subculture. I was an army brat but my mom wasn’t an officer. I moved a lot and lived with different families, meeting many who would hope the best for me and offer guidance, which I always accepted and considered. I wanted to belong and believed I could earn my way up if I worked for it. My home life was absent and not supportive. The community that helped me were addicts and townies who never left the county and never thought there was more to life but they were willing to watch me dream and help me get there. I learned from the streets, the elders and the land while consuming all the studies and media I could. I had to do it for all the generations before me who had wanted education but couldn’t have it. College was within reach if I could do the Running Start Program and earn an AA while in high school. Meanwhile, I had to get to school that day to get me out of the house and keep me on track to my dreams.
I tried very hard to make that first bus everyday. I loved going to school. I hadn’t really had many friends until high school and it was the only place I could express myself at all. Home was prison. Academics were the only thing I was good at and school got me out of the house- away from the drugs and strangers, away from the abuse and control. It was warm at school. There was food at school. At home, I got groceries roughly every two weeks but not always. My share was a gallon of milk, a bag of potatoes (those should last the month), some Top Ramen, two bags of frozen vegetables, an 8 pack of frozen burritos, a tub of margarine (when needed) and maybe some other items sometimes. There was canned food that just lived in the house, left from when Grandma was there. Sometimes I would get a special treat of Nally’s Chili. That was a good meal, especially if there was cheese. I had friends at school and people would talk to me like I was a person. School was my only escape from a life that trapped me. The house was my keep alone for a long time because they stayed in their trailer in the back.
Many days, I would hope that I could just not wake up, but when I did, I’d get to school. I only wanted to live long enough to die or get out because my house was toxic. We didn’t even have power starting that school year but if I got to school, I could shower there.
I craved school. I was smart there.
I wished I could wake up and get ready. I did everything I could to catch that bus. If I missed it, I would try Whisper. We used a CB radio and I tried to radio ahead. If she wasn’t awake, I’d try someone else but no one as a regular anymore. My grandma had an acquaintance, Julie, who was my emergency contact and she had been driving me when I missed the bus in middle school but she had to come from the town the high school was in to come for me and it I felt guilty. She never wanted me to and she was an angel in my time of need. If she ever felt she owed Grandma anything, she certainly made it up to me. I felt she’d been my savior too many times. It was really humbling to have to grovel for a ride from people in the community because I didn’t have family supporting me. Everyone had to struggle for everything they had. I was able to catch the bus most days on the first time around but I really resented it. The bus passed my house twice in the afternoon, as well, and I had to wait until the second time around to get off because that was how the route was written. Small graces are the world of difference in a person’s life. I am blessed for the road that I have traveled.
The Observations of Jaco 