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Ever notice how kids have their own language? It's like trying to decipher ancient hieroglyphics. One day, a kid handed me a note from his mom, and it might as well have been written in Elvish. "Dear Ms. Johnson, Timmy has soccer practice at 5, make sure he has his cleats." I'm sitting there thinking, "Am I a bus driver or a personal assistant?" I can barely remember my own schedule, and now I need to keep track of Timmy's cleats? I didn't sign up for this!
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You ever try to navigate through a sea of backpacks? It's like playing a real-life game of Frogger. Dodge the backpacks, avoid the swinging lunchboxes, and for the love of all that is holy, watch out for the rogue water bottles rolling down the aisle. It's like a war zone in there, and I'm just trying to get these kids to school without losing a shoe in the process.
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You know, being a school bus driver is like being the captain of a tiny, yellow ship filled with screaming, energetic pirates. And I say pirates because those kids can be ruthless negotiators. I've had a 7-year-old haggle over the optimal temperature for the bus. "It's too hot!" "It's too cold!" I'm just waiting for one of them to demand a snack bar and a movie, like it's a luxury cruise.
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Let's talk about bus stops. It's the designated meeting point for chaos. You've got parents rushing to drop off their kids, kids running around like they've had three cups of espresso, and me trying to maintain order in the midst of it all. And then there's always that one parent who wants to have a full-blown conversation while their kid is holding up the line. I've got a schedule to keep, people! I don't have time for the latest PTA gossip at 7 in the morning.
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