The Journey Inward

Yesterday, I took a field trip with a dozen colleagues and something like 160 kids to an aquarium one hour and nearly 45 minutes from school. We rode packed inside school buses that had no air conditioning. There are sooo many reasons why this 55 year old woman should not be riding a school bus at her age. These include:

1. a mounted box above the front windshield that reads, “Bodily fluid cleanup kit.”
2. twenty windows open to various levels and a light drizzle hitting me square in the face.
3. the smells…inside and out.
4. screaming and screeching. Lots of it.
5. “How much longer?” on endless repeat from in front, behind and beside me.
6. bumps that feel like deep crevices in the earth as we drive over them.
7. having to read lips because I can’t hear anything beyond my name being called out.
8. geographical conclusions that have no connection to where we actually are, such as “We’re by the beach. That’s why it smells so bad.” “No, we’re in New York.” “How many countries have we driven through?”

I shared my list with two colleagues on the bus who added these…

1. having to use the bathroom yourself because you have the bladder of an 80 year old.
2. butt falling asleep.
3. being one bump away from my next back surgery.

Was the trip fun? Yes! Did the kids enjoy it? Yes! Am I keen on repeating this any time soon? I am not. I was so wiped out last night, I got off the couch just to go to bed. But here’s what also happened. I thought of all the wonderful memories I have of being a chaperone on my own children’s trips. I thought even further back to my trips as a child, surrounded by my best friends.

And then this happened, and the headache and body aches took a back seat to a beaming example of humanity. We were on the bus to go back to school and I had just finished matching the seating chart to its occupants and passing out snacks and water when Carlos said to me, “I have to get off the bus.” I asked if he’d forgotten something on the sidewalk. He shook his head. I asked if he needed to go the bathroom. He shook his head. “What do you need?” I asked more generally. He never took his gaze from my face and repeated, “I have to get off the bus.”

Not understanding, but knowing this boy had his reasons, I ushered him off. He walked directly over to a homeless man in a wheelchair just feet from where we had boarded. A man I had not even noticed. He handed the man his snack and water. The man smiled and thanked him. I burst into tears and hugged Carlos. He shrugged and got back on the bus without a word to me or any of the children. Carlos saw what so many of us had looked past and when kids were demanding seconds and more, he had thought of the one without any.