By: Brenda Wilkerson
I didn’t think it could be possible, but the usual chaotic start of this new school year has been, hands down, the BEST first week of school everrrr. Oh, how we missed each other! There were grins, giggles, and hugs with chirpy greetings like, “There you are!”, “Climb aboard!” and “So good to see you!” As each giddy kiddy climbed aboard those steep 3 steps sporting the shiny crisp newness of clothes, shoes, backpacks, and school supplies, I just took in the moment. With crystal clear understanding of the school timeline, I know the backpacks are doomed for zipper breakage, water damage from leaky water bottles and early aging. Shoes will dull, shoestrings will knot and break, and tiny pieces of paper and fragments of pencils will eventually end up blown out the back door with my mini yellow leaf blower.
I watch in that huge rearview mirror like a big screen, anticipating the exhilarating nervousness of the very first bus riders experiencing the very first freeing feeling of no booster seats, car seats, or seatbelts only to morph into concern after a few bumpy bumps create some space between their fanny and the grey plastic seats. With any momentum, repeated turns cause students to become quick believers of such necessary safety precautions — riding this old horse ‘bareback’ makes you appreciate the comfort of a secure saddle… unless you are a middle kid. These guys accept the instability challenge with grins, grit, and a dopamine hit just trying to hold on to that bull for at least 8 seconds!
But along with the warm fuzzies, there are cold pricklies. And here is where my story begins, only a few days into the new chapter of a fresh school year.
When I heard one particular 2nd grader reluctantly tell his friends he didn’t have Pokémon cards anymore, my ears perked up. As a mom who has bought countless packs of these cards for my own son over the years, I get the gravity of this. When he boarded at the 2nd stop the next morning, I invited him to sit in the seat behind me so we could chat about the ‘sport’ of the cards he no longer participated in. What I ingested was a story I didn’t wanna hear. Apparently, his mom and brother woke him up on a Saturday morning to demand him retrieve every single Pokémon card in his room that he bought with his very own money by doing chores around the house.
Back story: This is the same kid who missed Field Day in May, one of the most hyped and revered events of the year, because someone had shaved chunks out of his hair in his sleep, and he missed that entire beloved hot summer day to get his hair cut to hide the damage. Unfortunately, the emotional toll could not be fixed at the barber shop.
My inner maternal fists are already up and ready when I hear that he was forced to check every pocket of his backpack and closet so both mom and brother could declare that he was too addicted and proceeded to cut up all of his cards. The pain in his eyes and softness in his voice created a sense of self control on a different level I ever knew I held. And friends, these cards aren’t just cards at this age. These cards represent identity, strategy, negotiation skills, connection, competition, and pride in a good swap.
My empathetic heart beat differently when I saw the Pokémon brotherhood gather a few cards from their own stacks and gladly give him to share. I got goosebumps from above as I watched in real time as the ever so silent teacher of empathy, sympathy, selflessness, generosity, and gratefulness fell upon this bus. It indeed created a bond tighter than if he still had all his Pokémon cards. Good things indeed can be created through bad situations.
On my high school route, one of my girls missed the sixth day of school because her road was closed during bus pick up time due to an accident, and I couldn’t pick her up. Her parents refused to take her to school.
Hearing the faded stories of teen-aged young women who compare sad sagas is another reason I gladly drive this high school route. Knowing they are surviving and strategizing together to find ways through genuinely appalling situations at home creates its own environment of empathy, sympathy, and selflessness. Interestingly, it also forged a tight bond sitting in the same front seats of my Pokémon brother just an hour before they climbed aboard. These girls swap nervous laughter, sarcasm, and comfort when a few tears leak out.
Realizing some of the big kids live in poverty situations, I can’t help but “take it a bit personal” when the traffic is backed up, causing a later arrival to school. Some of these kids need school breakfast. I don’t want them to wait ‘til lunch for their first meal of the day.
God has gently revealed to me, only two weeks in, that many of these kids are emotional orphans who desperately need love. On my watch, and with your prayers they will get just that.
As always, say a prayer when you see a yellow school bus. Every student represents a story, every driver represents a caretaker of souls, carrying the weight of mini worlds on their shoulders, balancing when to offer encouragement and when to report to the school administrators.
So if you find yourself a bit impatience when you end up stopped by school bus lights and you check the time with some anxiety about the few minutes later you will arrive at wherever you are going, breathe — offer gratitude for your life. The bus you had to stop for or seemed to have rudely pulled out in front of you is carrying way more than warm bodies. The driver just may be trying to keep the tears from rolling behind her reflective sunglasses determined to get some of these hungry kids to breakfast.
“Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you”
(James 1:27).
By: Brenda Wilkerson
