Dispatches

March 15, 2017

When I was a kid, some of the other ten year olds on the bus taught me how to blow spit bubbles. You catch a loop of air against your bottom lip on the tip of your tongue, then roll up your tongue to blow the bubble off into the air. We had great fun wafting these dime-sized spheres over the bus seats. The bus driver wasn't so amused. She yelled at us, then reported us to the school for "spitting on the bus." When I got home, my mother–who was still a stay-at-home mom then, though she started working not long after–gave me a good scolding.

"We weren't spitting!" I protested. "We were blowing bubbles!"

"I don't care," snapped my mother. "You have to listen to the bus driver."

The sense of injustice lingered for years, until I grew old enough to understand what a tough job bus drivers have....