It was in 1970 and I needed a job. My husband was sick and unable to work. A friend of mine drove a school bus for the school our children attended. She told me there was an opening for a bus driver. How hard could that be? I was to apply at the superintendent of schools' office.

It was a cold winter day, spitting snow with a cold wind out of the northwest. I dressed in a plaid skirt, matching jacket and heels. This was my interviewing outfit. I didn't know that I was the only one applying for the job. I later learned that if I was breathing and able to walk I would get the job. But first I had to demonstrate that I could drive the bus. I hadn't expected to be doing that right after the interview. High heels were not the proper shoes to be wearing for driving on those icy roads.

My friend was to drive a bus full of alternative school kids of various ages to their classes at a nearby school. I thought I would be riding along with her, taking instructions and then driving an empty bus back. No way. I was to drive the ten miles to the other school. With a busload of children, it was to be a wild ride. First of all, there was the problem of keeping them in their seats. Following directions was not easy for them. This was back in the day when there were lots of songs such as “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” We sang all the way there.

Wearing high heels with icy roads and my first time driving a school bus, I somehow survived and got the job. My route was to be the one I lived on. My children would ride with me. That's another story. I later learned it was the least desired route of all. It was the one route with stop sign at the foot of a steep hill that dead ended at a crossroad. It was the only steep hill in the county. I could take the hill two ways. Make a left turn and come chug-chugging up the hill in low gear or go the other way and come down, braking, praying to be able to stop at the foot of the hill without going into the swamp on the other side. There were no good choices. I chose to come down the hill. One teenage boy on the route wanted to ride down the hill with me. He was hoping I would wipe out. I never did.

But one time after coming down that hill my brakes locked up and caught fire. Thank heavens I had a fire extinguisher on board. The kids bailed out the back door and I put out the fire on the right front wheel. We had to wait for another bus to take the rest of the kids home. I slid into a snowbank and hit a mailbox at another stop. Those were my only two mishaps on that route.

The kids were fun; we became great friends. To keep them quiet, my husband installed a radio with two speakers towards the back of the bus. If the kids were quiet, they could listen to the radio: noisy, the radio was silent. There was the time I approached the railroad tracks coming into town. I usually turned on my flasher, shut off the engine and looked both ways up and down the track before proceeding. There were no crossing lights or bars. But this time the kids wouldn't quiet down. I stopped the bus, opened the door, got out and knelt down, putting my ear on the track. Dead silence on the bus. I got back in the bus, started the engine, turned off the flasher and proceeded down the road. I looked up in the mirror and said, “No train coming.” There was never another problem at that track crossing.

Another time a teenage girl got on the bus and threw a raw egg at someone. I stopped the bus and told her to clean it up. She said she wouldn't do it. “Ok,” I said. “We will wait here until you do.” After a few minutes the other kids on the bus started yelling at her to clean it up. All we had was used notebook paper in the wastebasket. Not good for absorbing raw egg. Somehow she did it. She lived just inside of town and wasn't supposed to ride the bus anyway. That was her last trip.

The final straw came when I had problems picking up a kindergartner at the last stop on the route. She was never ready. The other kids would be waiting for the bus. They didn't want to be late for school waiting for her. Her mother wouldn't start putting on her snow suit, boots, hat, scarf and mittens until I pulled up out front. We could see them through the living room picture window. The kids were furious as we watched and waited for her. I told the parents and the superintendent that I would no longer wait for her if she wasn't ready. The next time I pulled up in front of her house, it was the same old thing, so I just drove on to school. By the time I had my bus unloaded and parked, I was called to the superintendent's office. The kindergartner's father was standing there, yelling that I had no right to leave her. In the ensuing conversation, I quit.

So much for my bus driving career. I only made seventy dollars a week. My bus was the oldest one without power brakes or power steering. I had the worst route. Enough was enough. I took a job in a sewing factory for more money and with no driving required.