Back When I Was in School

August 29, 1998

Last week my editor was dismayed at having lost the bus schedule due to a computer shutdown. I watched as she laboriously set up the entire thing. As she commented on the buses and the approaching school year, her verbal barrage sparked something deep inside of me. I remembered … my first day of kindergarten 20 years ago.
“Aaron, wake up!” I heard my mom yell. I sprung out of bed and went into the kitchen to eat some cereal.
“Good morning honey, would you like Grape Nuts or Cheerios?” said my mom, as she placed a bowl and spoon in front of me.
“Fruit Loops,” I replied, well knowing that we didn’t have any. My mother was the kind that didn’t believe in getting really “cool” cereals. “Aaron, you know we don’t have that. Now, you better hurry up and eat so you don’t miss the bus.” My sisters and I considered ourselves lucky if we didn’t have to eat oatmeal.
“Oh, all right. Cheerios,” I muttered under my breath.
“How come your new clothes are all wrinkled?” asked Mom.
“I don’t know,” I replied simply. I had learned that saying this would kill any line of parental questioning. They were wrinkled because I had slept in them the night before. I wanted to be extra prepared this morning.
“Oh well, run in and brush your teeth,” she said.
Mom seemed oddly excited about my first day of school. We talked about the things I would do, my teacher and what bus number I would take as she wet and parted my hair.
“Oh, honey, I think I just heard the bus!”
“What?” I said, as I listened intently. I could feel my heart lurch and my stomach become uneasy. A roar sounded outside as an engine began to wind up.
“Mom, I’m going to miss the bus!” You’ll have to take me!” I shrieked.
“Quick, grab your lunch box and coat. You can still catch it.”
“No, Mom!” I said as I was herded toward the door. I felt a kiss on my cheek as my mom yelled, “Run Aaron, run!” I felt as if I were trapped in a nightmarish version of Dick and Jane. See Aaron run, entered my head as I darted down the driveway.
“Run.” My mom made it sound so easy.
“Stop! Stop!” I screamed at the bus but the bus driver wasn’t slowing down. I had already run what felt like miles when I noticed all of the kids in the bus windows laughing at me. Their wicket little faces were filled with glee as they pointed at me chasing the bus. They might have even been telling the bus driver to speed up!
My plight had become their early morning entertainment. I started crying. I ran. I cried. The bus continued moving down the block.
The more I cried the more ground I lost in my race with the yellow canister of laughing children.
I stopped running. I dropped my Superman lunch box and cupped my hands to my mouth. “Stop!” I screamed, until I ran out of breath.
I stood there on the sidewalk and watched the bus as it began to round the corner. Suddenly, the bus came to a stop and the doors swung open. I picked up my lunch box and jogged to the corner where the bus had eased to a stop. I climbed into the bus and sniffled as I glared at the bus driver. He resembled a pilot with his slick hair and mirror tinted sunglasses. “Welcome aboard,” he said.
I didn’t respond, but to this day I thought I saw him smile as I turned to find a seat.