Sometimes, being a music teacher has very little to do with notes and rests and everything to do with everything else – like building relationships.
In one of my elementary schools, we had several afternoon bus runs where fights often broke out, resulting in injured kids, massive paperwork, parent meetings, and follow up meetings for the administration in my school.
I’ve always considered one of the hardest and critically important jobs in a school district is driving a bus full of kids.
The driver is basically trapped behind the wheel and can’t go eye-to-eye with disruptive students.
On the morning run, many kids get on a school bus with incredible anger and emotional baggage from the home they just walked out of. The bus is the first place they can vent.
The same at the end of the day. The bus is the first place where some kids feel that they are back in power after a seven hour school day.
That said, I learned a lot by observing superior bus drivers build solid relationships with their student passengers by implementing brilliant behavior strategies.
I often volunteered to my administrator to ride some of the more problematic buses on the afternoon rounds to keep the peace. The bus driver would take me back to the school after they dropped off the last kid and went to the bus yard.
Having a teacher sit at the back of the bus had a calming effect on the kids. They would quickly settle down, start conversations or read a book. They also knew that many of their parents would be waiting at the bus stop and I would talk to their parents if their behavior warranted it.
One afternoon, the principal asked if I would ride the next morning bus run because of a developing situation.
There were often student conduct issues on morning runs but we had never placed a staff member on a bus to monitor behavior.
A morning problem?
Apparently, angry parents had contacted our school saying that the bus driver had laid hands on a student on the bus that morning and threatened they might confront the bus driver the following day.
The bus driver swore that she hadn’t touched anyone.
There were kids who said it happened and there were kids it said it didn't happen.
The idea was to have me on the bus that morning so that when it approached the bus stop in question involving that child, I would be there to cool down any potential emotional issues before admin could sort things out at school.
In one of my elementary schools, we had several afternoon bus runs where fights often broke out, resulting in injured kids, massive paperwork, parent meetings, and follow up meetings for the administration in my school.
I’ve always considered one of the hardest and critically important jobs in a school district is driving a bus full of kids.
The driver is basically trapped behind the wheel and can’t go eye-to-eye with disruptive students.
On the morning run, many kids get on a school bus with incredible anger and emotional baggage from the home they just walked out of. The bus is the first place they can vent.
The same at the end of the day. The bus is the first place where some kids feel that they are back in power after a seven hour school day.
That said, I learned a lot by observing superior bus drivers build solid relationships with their student passengers by implementing brilliant behavior strategies.
I often volunteered to my administrator to ride some of the more problematic buses on the afternoon rounds to keep the peace. The bus driver would take me back to the school after they dropped off the last kid and went to the bus yard.
Having a teacher sit at the back of the bus had a calming effect on the kids. They would quickly settle down, start conversations or read a book. They also knew that many of their parents would be waiting at the bus stop and I would talk to their parents if their behavior warranted it.
One afternoon, the principal asked if I would ride the next morning bus run because of a developing situation.
There were often student conduct issues on morning runs but we had never placed a staff member on a bus to monitor behavior.
A morning problem?
Apparently, angry parents had contacted our school saying that the bus driver had laid hands on a student on the bus that morning and threatened they might confront the bus driver the following day.
The bus driver swore that she hadn’t touched anyone.
There were kids who said it happened and there were kids it said it didn't happen.
The idea was to have me on the bus that morning so that when it approached the bus stop in question involving that child, I would be there to cool down any potential emotional issues before admin could sort things out at school.
As we approached the bus stop, I couldn’t believe the group of parents congregated at the street corner.
It wasn’t the final reel of “Frankenstein” (cue the pitchforks and torches) as the town folk approached the castle but it was similar enough to make me nervous.
There were at least a dozen and a half parents waiting for this bus. One of them held a hastily-made sign that implored “Don't touch our kids!”.
After the bus stopped, the door opened as the students came on board in single file. Some of the moms tried to tag along at the end of the line of kids.
That’s when I had to step up and try to block the door.
One of the offended parents forced her way pass me and started yelling at the bus driver behind me.
I had to get between her and the bus driver and back her down the steps to the sidewalk.
After I got the mom off the bus, I was now off the bus, too, and standing on the sidewalk with the parents.
The bus door slammed behind me.
While women were banging on the bus door and yelling at the driver, the bus driver sat in her seat looking straight ahead, wearing the countenance of a sphinx.
One of the parents apologetically came up to me with a heavy Delaware accent.
“Mr. Holmes, we all respect you here, we know you're a gentleman, and we know you're kind to our kids.”
The volume and intensity of her voice slowly started to ramp up.
“We know you would never do anything bad and we would never want to disrespect anyone or talk disrespectfully in front of you but I will tell you this, Mr. Holmes.”
By now she was shouting.
“Mr. Holmes, my friend is going to f*** up that woman bus driver, I swear to God she's going to f***ing pull her out of that bus and f*** her up!”
At which point, all the other parents start cheering. Three burly fathers walked in front of the bus, arms akimbo, blocking any forward movement of the bus.
We were at a stand-off.
These people were not happy and not inhibited in the least in showing their displeasure and anger.
I noticed someone in the crowd holding a broken broom handle behind their back.
Then I look down at myself.
I was armed with a three-piece black suit, a fountain pen, and a pocketful of guitar picks.
I moved in front of the bus door so the ladies had to stop hitting it.
Hands up and palms out, I invited the mothers to come back to school, meet with the administration, and sort all of this out.
I made a suggestion.
“You know, the kids really want to get to school.
We’re doing a lot of fun stuff in all the grades today, including pianos and guitars in music. If you would agree to come to school and iron this out with the student advisor, maybe you could stop in the music room for a song or two and we can get this bus on the road so the kids won’t be late . . . for breakfast.”
The word “breakfast suddenly got everyone’s attention.
“You want your kids to have breakfast, don’t you?”
I looked at my watch.
“You know, they stop serving breakfast in a little while.”
I turned to the bus and asked the kids, “Who on the bus needs breakfast today?”
The bus started rocking as every kid shouted that they did indeed not only wanted but needed breakfast.
The three husbands fathers who were still blocking the bus from going forward looked confused.
One of the mothers, referencing their son on the bus, screamed at her husband, “Well, are you going to get him breakfast? Because if you ain’t, you better move your ass and let him get to school!”
Insert pregnant pause.
I intoned my most “old soul” voice.
“You know, we all need nourishment, both for the body and for the soul.”
It was so still that you could almost hear the drama leaving the balloon.
I overheard one of the mothers murmur, “Mr. Holmes says the smartest f***ing things sometimes!”
Consensus can fast and furious. The mothers agreed to come to school. The fathers moved away from the bus.
I got back in the bus and barked at the kids that only the hungry kids were showing me that they wanted breakfast and the noisy ones weren’t hungry and would be skipping breakfast that morning.
A kid named Joey yelled, “You can’t do that!”
I whipped out my fountain pen and a scrap of paper and without making eye contact with Joey barked even louder, “So Joey wants to be first in the ‘I don’t want breakfast’ list. Who’s next?”
Pin drop moment.
We headed off to the remaining bus stops and made our way to school.
The bus driver story got sorted out in a meeting with the parents that day. No one touched any one – but there had been a lot a yelling including inappropriate remarks.
Like I said, sometimes, being a music teacher has very little to do with notes and rests and everything to do with everything else – like getting the bus back on the road.
It wasn’t the final reel of “Frankenstein” (cue the pitchforks and torches) as the town folk approached the castle but it was similar enough to make me nervous.
There were at least a dozen and a half parents waiting for this bus. One of them held a hastily-made sign that implored “Don't touch our kids!”.
After the bus stopped, the door opened as the students came on board in single file. Some of the moms tried to tag along at the end of the line of kids.
That’s when I had to step up and try to block the door.
One of the offended parents forced her way pass me and started yelling at the bus driver behind me.
I had to get between her and the bus driver and back her down the steps to the sidewalk.
After I got the mom off the bus, I was now off the bus, too, and standing on the sidewalk with the parents.
The bus door slammed behind me.
While women were banging on the bus door and yelling at the driver, the bus driver sat in her seat looking straight ahead, wearing the countenance of a sphinx.
One of the parents apologetically came up to me with a heavy Delaware accent.
“Mr. Holmes, we all respect you here, we know you're a gentleman, and we know you're kind to our kids.”
The volume and intensity of her voice slowly started to ramp up.
“We know you would never do anything bad and we would never want to disrespect anyone or talk disrespectfully in front of you but I will tell you this, Mr. Holmes.”
By now she was shouting.
“Mr. Holmes, my friend is going to f*** up that woman bus driver, I swear to God she's going to f***ing pull her out of that bus and f*** her up!”
At which point, all the other parents start cheering. Three burly fathers walked in front of the bus, arms akimbo, blocking any forward movement of the bus.
We were at a stand-off.
These people were not happy and not inhibited in the least in showing their displeasure and anger.
I noticed someone in the crowd holding a broken broom handle behind their back.
Then I look down at myself.
I was armed with a three-piece black suit, a fountain pen, and a pocketful of guitar picks.
I moved in front of the bus door so the ladies had to stop hitting it.
Hands up and palms out, I invited the mothers to come back to school, meet with the administration, and sort all of this out.
I made a suggestion.
“You know, the kids really want to get to school.
We’re doing a lot of fun stuff in all the grades today, including pianos and guitars in music. If you would agree to come to school and iron this out with the student advisor, maybe you could stop in the music room for a song or two and we can get this bus on the road so the kids won’t be late . . . for breakfast.”
The word “breakfast suddenly got everyone’s attention.
“You want your kids to have breakfast, don’t you?”
I looked at my watch.
“You know, they stop serving breakfast in a little while.”
I turned to the bus and asked the kids, “Who on the bus needs breakfast today?”
The bus started rocking as every kid shouted that they did indeed not only wanted but needed breakfast.
The three husbands fathers who were still blocking the bus from going forward looked confused.
One of the mothers, referencing their son on the bus, screamed at her husband, “Well, are you going to get him breakfast? Because if you ain’t, you better move your ass and let him get to school!”
Insert pregnant pause.
I intoned my most “old soul” voice.
“You know, we all need nourishment, both for the body and for the soul.”
It was so still that you could almost hear the drama leaving the balloon.
I overheard one of the mothers murmur, “Mr. Holmes says the smartest f***ing things sometimes!”
Consensus can fast and furious. The mothers agreed to come to school. The fathers moved away from the bus.
I got back in the bus and barked at the kids that only the hungry kids were showing me that they wanted breakfast and the noisy ones weren’t hungry and would be skipping breakfast that morning.
A kid named Joey yelled, “You can’t do that!”
I whipped out my fountain pen and a scrap of paper and without making eye contact with Joey barked even louder, “So Joey wants to be first in the ‘I don’t want breakfast’ list. Who’s next?”
Pin drop moment.
We headed off to the remaining bus stops and made our way to school.
The bus driver story got sorted out in a meeting with the parents that day. No one touched any one – but there had been a lot a yelling including inappropriate remarks.
Like I said, sometimes, being a music teacher has very little to do with notes and rests and everything to do with everything else – like getting the bus back on the road.
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