By: Brenda Wilkerson
The stark contrast between driving elementary children to and from school versus the high schoolers is a bit shocking. On one hand you have wiggly, giggly, and chatty li’l elementary squirmy worms chanting, “Six-seeeeeeeven,”enthusiastically trading Pokémon cards, and screech-barking songs as I resort to my ear bleed whistle to maintain a lower decibel above rambunctious chaos. All that while attempting to drive as undistracted and safely as humanly possible. On the other hand, you have the stoic, eerily quiet, emotionless, Monster Energy drinkin’, detached, blue-screen-eyed, and ear-budded high schoolers who barely talk above the polite belly of an airplane murmur just before take-off. When I share with those who ask, that I drive high schoolers, there is almost always a physical recoil as bad bus memories forever hiccupped in their hippocampus spasmodically rush their nervous system.
Each and every day for 120 school days, I have tried to connect with these older kids in some way or another. Most days, the earbuds blasting whatever their choice of brain noise drowns out any “Good Morning” or “Have a Good Day” I gladly offer daily. Most times, there is not even eye contact. I had a talk with myself early on not to take it personal as my snarky side wanted to shock them into noticing my kind greetings with overly dramatic arm flailing sign language to say, “Good Morning” or a brief tirade of the “Haka” of the Maori people who are known for their angry scream chants with bulging wide eyes, stomping their feet while dramatically slapping their chest and thighs. But, alas, a fear response to the psycho bus driver is not the goal here. Plus, there are about six cameras on the bus, and with one complaint from a panicked parent, they will have me replayed on the evening news every half hour till 10 o’clock.
But then there was last Friday, a beautiful spring-like afternoon, when a few of my chattier girls behind me started the age-old game of tag. One would reach over and startle the other with a poke that mustered an unexpected shock squeal and a “Tag! No tag backs!” Then another one of the girls quickly got up at a stop light and with lighting speed, tagged her friend in the back and was safe in her seat before the light turned green. Now, the commotion spread to the back half of the bus. I saw kids reaching over seats, under the seats, across the seats, striking complicated yoga poses struggling to stay just out of reach of the tagger’s fingertip. From then on, each stop and departure became a sport of Olympic proportions to try to leave Ol’ Yeller having tagged last and then to escape down the steps victorious before the action could be returned. Y’all, as a proud member of Gen-X, I almost teared up as my soul took a deeeeep breath for these kids who are living in a detached, burdened, and toxic environment so foreign to me. And now, what a fabulous day! Oh, how I have wanted this for them since the very first week of school.
So, here is my call for personal reflection. Have I somehow grown accustomed to my own ways of unintentionally shutting people out by not looking up or listening to the quiet invitations for connection? Can we possibly send the wrong message without our awareness? How can we shift to healthier connections of our own needs and those around us? Are we willing to pivot, shift, and re-center from our own mind-numbing activities to notice those around us that just might need a kind word and a simple “Good Morning” with a genuine smile and the intentional eye contact of simple connection. Let’s be intentional. Let’s spread some joy and kindness to friends, neighbors, strangers, parents, grandparents, children, sisters, brothers, coworkers, waitresses, mailpersons, UPS drivers, and to those we meet throughout the adventure of a simple day. Today.
Lord, this is the day that you have made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!
By: Brenda Wilkerson
