Stirring the Pot:

Trailer Park Kids

Jim Ellis | Contributor

Of course I can’t remember all the names any more — it’s been a long time since I drove the school bus full time. But like any bus driver worthy of the name, I can still close my eyes and see the faces of many of the kids I’ve driven.

The children I recall most vividly are those who faced some serious challenge: the tiny girl with severely crossed eyes and webbed hands whose smile each morning was a mile wide; the streetwise boy going to the program for emotionally disturbed children, who knew the name of every bus driver and who could describe every bus route in our large urban district; the master of wheelchair basketball, abandoned by his family as a baby, whose irreverent sense of humor reminded me of Eddie Murphy; the forlorn little girl going to the early intervention program I made the mistake of singing to one day, who then demanded I sing every time she boarded the bus; the brother and sister from the very poorest part of town being raised by their great-grandmother.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back I see what an incredible education driving the school bus provided me. I certainly wasn’t rich growing up — my father was a printer. But until I drove bus and saw it with my own eyes every day, I didn’t understand how many children in our society grow up without their most basic needs being met — a safe and stable home life, mature adult role models, clean clothing, adequate food, medical care.

One of the most unique things about being a school bus driver or attendant is that you have the opportunity to see up close and personal every single segment of your community. Sure, teachers and school administrators deal with all the kids, too — the rich ones, the poor ones, and all those in between. But there’s something very different about seeing not just the child, but the child’s home environment every day. Observing firsthand the substandard homes and dangerous neighborhoods so many children come out of, it doesn’t take a sociologist to figure out why so many are considered “at risk” today.

Of course, children can be pretty mean to each other. It’s probably always been that way — bullying isn’t a new phenomenon. But in our current celebrity- and wealth-worshiping culture, kids who board the bus at the entrance to a ramshackle trailer park or in front of a broken down apartment building, kids without the newest clothes or toy, can face some truly brutal treatment from their more fortunate peers. “I’m not sitting with those trailer park kids” (or, depending on where you drive, “kids from the rez” or “kids from the projects”). “He smells.” “She’s got bugs.” “Her mother gets her clothes at the Salvation Army.” If you’re a bus driver, you’ve probably heard statements like these, or worse.

Although there’s a lot of talk today, as there should be, about how schools can better serve “children at risk,” the role bus drivers and attendants often play in helping troubled kids goes largely unacknowledged. Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of working with some incredibly patient and incredibly intelligent school bus drivers and attendants. I have been humbled by the intuitive psychological savvy I see drivers and attendants using to develop positive relationships with difficult and damaged kids.

Sometimes I’m stunned by the cynicism and negativity about kids in our society today. Some adults — even some bus drivers I am sad to say — can’t be bothered to try to communicate with children who are less than perfect angels. Some adults are too consumed with their own toys to worry about the next generation.

To those of you who do your best to reach out to and stick up for kids who are hurting in some way, I just want to say thank you.

Ellis is the transportation director for Moravia, N.Y., Central School District and the former director of research and design at PTSI. He can be contacted at elsink@adelphia.net. All reprint requests should be directed to ryan@stnonline.com.