I was a school bus driver for K through 8 kids while in college b/c the hours fit with my class schedule. A few things I recall about it…
I once allowed a paper fight on the last day of school. In part b/c they asked first, but also b/c I related to the feeling of angst I had at that life stage, hating school as much as I did, so I figured I would allow them to blow off some steam. It gave a few of the more seasoned bus drivers a chuckle as they walked by in the lot, seeing me ankle deep in paper waste, filling up trash bags.
I learned stick shifting during my training. They seemed to have no concern about entrusting a 19 year old to learn the ropes on a bus, so I had no fear. At least until I subbed for another driver and the kids yelled STOP! when I was half way up a steep hill. Although the gear and brakes were engaged, the bus started rolling backwards down the hill. I saw another bus at the bottom in my rear view and was totally terrified. Luckily he was an old timer who was smart enough not to tail me. My bus stopped just feet before hitting his. Bad brakes were the culprit, which pissed me off.
Occasionally a chubby third grade boy would sit behind me so he could test out some very off color jokes on an adult. This was during an era where Ethiopian jokes were fairly commonplace. He would ask things like ‘How many Ethiopians can fit in a phone booth?’ ‘How many’ ‘All of them.’ The jokes weren’t as funny as the unfeeling deadpan delivery. It wouldn’t surprise me if he went into stand up as an adult.