"On the way back from a field trip to the fire station, some kid stole some trauma shears. I was his assigned buddy for the day and we had to sit together. He showed them to me and I told him he'd better throw them away before he got back to school. He spun them around his finger and flung them out the window of the bus doing about 45 mph.
They stuck 2 inches deep in the right thigh of a morbidly obese, middle-aged woman. He looked at me with a face that said: 'How am I going to explain this to my cellmate?'
The bus starts slowing down, we're stopped at a red light. This woman is moving like a linebacker towards us, screaming: 'STOP THE BUS! Those kids stabbed me!' She catches the freakin' bus and is beating on the door screaming: 'Call the police!'
The bus driver opens the door, she gets on with blood pooling by her foot, screaming and pointing at kids who might have stabbed her.
Cops show up. My assigned friend is ghost pale and sweating bullets. They didn't even need to ask questions, just took him away in handcuffs. As he is being hauled off, he points at me and says: 'He told me to throw them away.' I yelled back: 'I meant in a trashcan, you idiot.'
Heard he got 6 months in juvie. Never saw him again."
"A bus driver named Jim. 4th grade. I was born and raised in Alaska. In the winter, it gets -30 degrees and colder on the regular for weeks at a time. Technically kids weren't allowed to wear shorts to the bus stop in winter but Jim never said anything to me about it. He went out of his way to be kind to me.
What Jim didn't know, or maybe he did, was that I didn't have any other clothes. I didn't have anybody getting me up and off to school. I didn't have love. I barely had safety and only some days, I had little supplies, food, support, anything. Jim went out of his way to make me feel special. He must've seen something or known something.
Looking back, he gave me special attention: letting the shorts thing pass, letting me kind of boss the bus in a totally passive way. He just made me feel good - not in a creeper way, either.
I very clearly remember the last day of school. Jim used to have a cowboy hat on him, but he put his cowboy hat on my head. We had never seen Jim without his brown cowboy hat. He took it off and sent me away with a, 'See ya later, kid.' Boy oh boy. If he had any idea. Bus driver Jim that picked me up at 4th and Haller for all of my 4th-grade years in small-town Alaska, he made a difference - thanks, Jim."
"One time this kid Dana, who looked identical to Donkeylips from Salute Your Shorts (just look it up), was dared to drink an entire room temperature 2-liter bottle of coke before we got to his stop.
This kid chugged the entire bottle down like an absolute champion. At almost the instant his face could form a smug grin of satisfaction from a job well done, he proceeded to barf a borderline fountain of foamy sticky soda all over two dozen terrified kids on the bus. It's as if his entire stomach was filled with rolls of Mentos, which was possible considering the candy was at its commercial peak at the time.
I mean the force of this thing could have put out a house fire. His arch reached over like four rows of seats and was sprayed wildly back and forth like a diabetic sprinkler system as he struggled to reign control from this carbonated demonic nightmare.
The bus driver had to stop the bus to attend to the frightened children and made a short but sincere effort to pat dry those poor souls caught in ground zero with government-grade paper towels. I've never seen anything quite like it, and I'm afraid I may never again.
Well done, Dana."
"Some kid in the back of the bus was being harassed by his bully. My school district didn't really do stuff about bullies. The kid being bullied was sitting three to a seat with his legs in the aisle, and the bully was sitting by one of his friends, in the aisle across from the kid he was messing with. The bully decided to start pushing the kid's leg.
Before it was verbal, but now it was physical.
The kid told the bully to stop. Bully mocked him and did it again. The kid then punched the bully in the nose, breaking it and causing this huge amount of blood to leak from it.
By now, the bus had stopped at some bus stop. The kid who punched the bully gets his stuff and gets off at the stop that's a few ahead of his. The second he's off, he starts running and going a different route to his house. The bus driver was unaware of what happened until someone yelled at them that the bully's nose wouldn't stop bleeding. So she makes a call while the bully is calling his mom crying. So we get the police and his mom to show up. Other kids have called their parents because, at this point, we've been at a standstill for 30 + minutes and the principal shows up! So the cops along with the principal are asking who did it and to confess. And we are all like, 'We don't know!' Of course, we did know but why would we tell on our hero?
The principal and police are talking and they think the kid is still on the bus. We then say: 'Oh, he got off we don't know where he went or who he was.' The principal and police look at the bus driver who shrugs because she didn't realize what was going on until it was too late. We spent two hours on that hot bus because of it, but I couldn't even be mad."
"We told our parents that our bus driver was mean and we didn't like him. Got a very condescending lecture about how it was our 'duty' to get along with the adults around us.
So one day our bus driver was taken off the bus in handcuffs for speeding up to 60km/hr in a school zone. After speeding, he then slammed on the brakes that sent us all flying (which was HOW he was being mean, the older kids had paired up with smaller kids for months to brace them and keep them from getting injured) - with a cop car in his rear blind zone. The letter from the school board included terms like 'reckless endangerment' and 'dangerous driving' and 'trauma counselors' etc. When I came home my folks were astounded we hadn't told them. And we were astounded because, in our minds, we HAD.
Fast forward years later, and my now 10-year-old son came home and said his teacher was mean. I sat him down and asked for specifics and details and found out my son was being 'skinny-shamed' by this teacher. So I went to the school and they didn't take it seriously. So I demanded they pick any overweight child from the school and to inspect and criticize his lunch daily, to insinuate his parents didn't love him or care for him properly, to ask him questions like, 'WHY are you so fat!?' and 'What does your doctor say about how fat you are, have you talked to them about your fatness!?' in front of his peers.
Nope. That would be so inappropriate and mean. Oh, wait... So now my son won't be approached or hounded about his body anymore.
So thanks, psychotic bus driver - you taught me to talk to my kids."
"I have two stories. In middle school, my bus once caught on fire a block away from the school. It was a tiny one but enough to call the firefighters. We all piled off and watched them do their thing. They brought a second bus...which also caught on fire. Eventually, we were brought a third bus, 30 minutes later. This was all during the winter and we weren't allowed to walk back to the school because of 'safety reasons.' I never understood why it was safer to have kids standing outside in winter next to a bus on fire than to walk them a block back to the school.
The other time I was in 1st grade. My bus driver was a crazy nice guy. He knew us all. One day my aunt who always picked me up wasn't there at the stop. He said that I could stay on the bus and we would drive back after the route. Maybe she was just late. We drive back and she still wasn't there. So he asked me which house was mine. He drove us there and parked his bus. We rang the bell a bunch and threw small rocks at her window. Nothing. Her car was there though so it was very weird. My friend's mom drove by and saw us. She offered to take me to her house so I could call my parents and stay there for a while even though it was her birthday. The bus driver left and said don't worry, she's probably just asleep.
Turns out she was eternally asleep and had a brain aneurysm earlier in the day. I'll never forget that day or that nice driver who wanted to make sure I was safe before he left. He even made sure to look out for me for the rest of the year. Great guy."
Elementary school, I'm not sure which grade. We had a substitute bus driver, and she didn't quite make the turn in a cul-de-sac. As she was reversing, the bus decided to make a three-point turn, she hit a guide wire for a telephone pole. Within just a few seconds, the guide wire ripped a massive hole in the side of the bus. The metal rolled up like an opened sardine can, and kids screamed a lot. Everybody was fine.
Freshman year of high school, a kid named Chris was sitting in the front of the bus (he was a problem-child). He was on his cellphone and he started screaming into the phone saying he was going to kill the person he was talking to. He was cussing up a storm, and the bus driver asked him to be quiet. He didn't quiet down, so the driver threatened to take the bus back to school. He still didn't shut up, so the bus driver began to turn around. When Chris noticed the bus driver was actually turning around, he decided he was finished with his bus ride and decided to get off.
The driver couldn't just let this kid off in a random place, of course, so she locked the door shut using the door's hydraulic locking mechanism. Chris began to kick the door, trying to force it open, and he eventually pried it open enough to squeeze through.
Hilariously, the hydraulics were still working, so when he fit his body through the opening, the door slammed shut again and pinned Chris between his back and his backpack, leaving Chris suspended a few feet from the ground. Chris flailed like crazy and his shoes flew off into the grass, which made everybody laugh.
He finally squirmed out of his backpack and managed to land on solid ground. After grabbing his shoes, he took off running down the road. The bus driver radioed the school and HQ told the driver to return to base to make a report on the incident; a police officer was en-route to pick up Chris.
The police never found Chris and the report took about ten minutes or so, so we resumed the normal route like an ordinary day. When we reached Chris' house, though (ironically the first stop) he burst out of his house, wearing nothing but a red bandanna, and pointed what looked like an assault weapon right at the bus.
The bus driver floored it. She immediately radioed the school again, and we had to go all the way back to school to file another report. After a half hour or so, we resumed our route, once again, like an ordinary day.
As we passed Chris' house again, we got a fantastic view of ten police officers pinning Chris to the ground and handcuffing him.
I haven't seen Chris since..."
"The day the bus driver finally hit the dog that would run after the bus.
Every day, on the ride home from school, this brother and sister's pet Yorkie would always make a mad dash towards the bus. It was never on a leash or supervised, just left outside by the parents so that it could 'greet' the kids when they got home. It normally never got too close to the bus, always stopping short of the driveway.
Not sure what it was about that day though. The dog decided to cross its usual boundaries and, well, being a tiny Yorkie, the bus won as you could imagine. The thing was, the bus driver didn't believe us when we told her repeatedly that she hit the dog. So finally, the next day, on the morning pick up, we are driving past the Yorkie's house and to all our amazement is the family: father, wife, son and daughter, all holding white poster boards with the words 'DOG KILLER' written all over them and the family yelling at the bus driver.
After a lot of crying from the bus driver, we went on our way to school. I don't recall if we drove past that house ever again."
"When I was in elementary school in Cleveland, my bus driver from 4th grade on was this really old, small lady. She never really talked much, which wasn't a big deal. She seemed nice enough, gave out candy to kids when it was near Halloween and Valentine's Day, pretty normal bus driver experience.
One day in 5th grade, the younger kids on the bus were particularly rowdy. I don't remember why, just a lot of kids yelling, not staying in their seats, throwing papers and stuff around. So the bus driver just literally pulls to the side of the road and stops the bus, then gets up and starts screaming at us. That was the day we learned that our little old lady school bus driver was actually apparently straight out of Jersey.
'YOU GUYS CALM DOWN NOW. I AM SICK AND TIRED OF YOU FU...FREAKIN KIDS SCREAMING ALL THE TIME. YOU ALL BETTER SIT YOUR BUTTS DOWN AND BE QUIET!'
And yeah, being in 5th grade, I was mature enough to notice that she was very close to dropping an f-bomb in front of kids as young as 5 years old. Even by the low moral standards of 2005, that would've probably gotten her fired real quick.
She was loud, too. Louder than I thought a 5'1, approximately 80-year-old lady could ever possibly be. I think out of pure fear, the kids actually listened and were silent for the rest of the bus trip. Kids picked up at later stops were just as silent as those who had been yelled it, the very mood of the bus had changed."
"This happened my sophomore year, and I will refer to it as the 'Cookie Incident'.
I went to a private high school and I was super uptight. Our high school had its own buses and would help out the local private elementary schools by picking up their kids as well.
The morning in question, we stopped at this one elementary school and the driver had to use the restroom so she got off the bus while the little kids got off. One of the guys had a bag of homemade cookies which someone had given him a few weeks before, but they were stale and he asked one of the kids getting off to toss them in the trash. Some other little punk grabbed the bag and tossed it into the back of the bus. There, the freshmen caught it and tossed it back to the front. Back and forth the bag went, the contents breaking apart but remaining in the bag. Eventually, one guy from my year caught it, and that space-waster opened it and began taking pinches of cookie crumbs out and tossing them about. Some came to me and I told him to cut it out. Since I was so uptight back then, this meant I became target #1. I calmly set my stuff down, stood up, walked back to his seat and stood over him, then raised my fist and slammed it into the back of his head about 3 times (Note: At that time I was already 6 ft. and about 230 lbs).
He slumped forward and I went back to my seat. He woozily got up, came back to me, and tried to hit me, only knocking my glasses off, blinding me. By the time the driver came back from her bathroom break, I had him in a headlock, while another guy was trying to break us up. All three of us got hauled up to the principal's office. He was a pretty easy going guy and we likely would have just gotten a slap on the wrist and sent on to class. Instead, we had the vice-principal from my worst nightmares. This guy never smiled in the years I knew him. Students randomly decided to sing him 'Happy Birthday' at lunch one year, with a scowl he marched out of the cafeteria. Both of us ended up getting suspended for a day or two, and they threatened to suspend the one who tried to break us up."
"There was a kid on my bus, let's call him Andy, who had Down Syndrome. He was an awesome kid, but the bus was way too excitable of an environment for him. He was always bouncing off the walls and constantly had to be moved to the front seat where the driver could keep an eye on him.
There was another kid, I'll call him Tim, who was a real trouble-maker. He was that classic kid who got off on being the really loud and obnoxious kid, constantly picking on girls and moving around seats trying to look smooth.
Anywho, one of the things that made Tim terrible was that he loved kinda winding Andy up. Andy, like I said, definitely didn't need any winding up, so the whole bus was really not a fan of Tim.
One day, Andy was doing one of his classic moves, which was making really loud raspberries right in people's faces. He usually spit a little bit when he did this, so nobody enjoyed that much.
After Andy had done this to a few people, he did it to the little girl Tim had a crush on. Tim wasn't about to let that fly, so he tapped Andy on the shoulder, and when Andy turned around, Tim blew a big ol' raspberry right in his face.
Andy looked at Tim with his mouth hanging open, shocked that someone had dared do a raspberry back at him. The look of utter shock and bewilderment that was on his face for about five seconds is one I've never forgotten.
Tim seemed pretty uncomfortable to have Andy just staring at him, so Tim said: 'Yeah..it's not so fun is it!'
The second he said that Andy let off a huge sneeze right into his hand. Without a second of hesitation, Andy proceeded to slap Tim across the face with his booger glob-filled hand, right in front of the entire bus, including the object of Tim's affection.
That was the last time Tim ever bothered Andy."
"In 1995, my family moved away from where I grew up to another city as my dad changed jobs. I had just graduated from elementary school, so I was starting high school in a new city - no friends and this high school was 4 or 5 times the size of the one I was going to go to.
We lived on the outskirts, so I rode the yellow bus.
The very first day there were 4 other guys and 1 girl that were on the bus when I got on.
One of them immediately strikes up a conversation - I can tell this guy is a high energy and loud, quite the contrary to me.
Guy 1: 'Hey! What's your name!'
I reply with my name. Guy 1 questions me and says: 'That name is too long. We need to give you a nickname!'
In my head, I was fearing the worst. This guy was going to label me with an insulting nickname on my first day of high school where I knew nobody. The next 4 years could be very long.
Luckily, his intent was genuine and he came up with the nickname 'Jeff'.
He then points to a guy sitting quietly across the aisle and says: 'That there is D. He's my brother, I think you guys are in the same grade. You guys should be friends!'
D looks up, with a big smile with crooked teeth, a weird pair of thick glasses. 'Hey, what's up?' He was tall for a teenager, pushing 6'2".
We strike a little conversation and discover we have many things in common. We were also both the youngest child of 3 boys. We related a lot. It was instant, we were buddies. A little while later I moved, so I still went to the same school but took a different bus there.
Fast forward to the summer of 1996. I find out that D is moving away to a city a few hours away, so that means my best friend was no longer going to be at the same school as me!
D and I completely lost touch. The internet was in its infancy and not everyone had emails. We did snail mail a little, but that petered out after a few letters.
Several months later I get wind that a new kid will be coming to our school in our grade and he would be on our bus route. I knew what this kid was going through, moving to a new town, not knowing anyone, so I made it a point that I would be nice to this kid and help him make friends at school.
So the following Monday, the bus takes a different turn here and there and we are driving down the street to go pick up this new kid. I look down the road and see this tall lanky guy.
As we pull up closer, it hits me. I know this guy!
Yup, indeed it was, my best buddy D is back in town!
We were both very excited that a) he was back in town and b) the place he moved to is on the same bus route as me.
Today, D and I are still best buds. He was my best man and I was his best man - we see each other weekly. All of this because his brother gave me a nickname and told us we should be friends."
"I went to a K-12 school so you ended up having one 3rd grader (me) with the rest of the bus being mostly high schoolers. We'd always argue on which route the bus driver should take because I wanted to get home ASAP but the older guys wanted to spend time on the bus with their friends.
So one day, as I was telling the bus driver that he should take the shorter route, this fat 10th grader comes up, slaps me, and then tells me to shut it. I was a vicious kid and I wasn't about to let this pass.
I waited until the bus was moving and the kid was standing and talking with his friends. I came up behind him and as we approached a speed bump I waited for the bus to brake and then used all the strength I had in my body to shove the kid. He fell before he could use his hands to brace the fall and ended up chipping his tooth but then he half-tried to kick me while he was lying on the ground. So I grabbed his foot, took his shoe off, and without even thinking about it, threw the shoe out the window. By the time the bus driver realized it was too late for him to stop and that guy went home with one shoe."