I am a bus driver, and for the most part, the only drama I expect is that of kids being kids. On this day, things were different.
I was driving to my school to pick up the students and bring them home. I have to go down a hill, where I have a great view of the school. I often ignore this because I have seen the school many times before, but something was different. As I was approaching, there was a lot of traffic—none of it was moving—and flashing lights from a police car. I arrived at the entrance I wanted to get to. There were two buses and a private vehicle sandwiched between them. Was there some odd accident of someone trying to squeeze through these two buses? I considered this a real possibility since, as a bus driver, I have seen some crazy things people do not to get stuck behind a school bus. But this did not explain why traffic everywhere was not moving.
Two cars directly in front of me decided they were not waiting and were able to turn around and escape this log jam of vehicles. I then moved up and looked at what I thought was the accident, but no one was walking around the vehicles I thought were involved. I noticed a cop car blocking the way to where I park. At this point, I call my workplace office. I do not have a radio to contact them, plus the geography prohibits its use with all the hills at this location. I learned that the school was on lockdown.
Lockdowns can happen for reasons ranging from simple precaution to outright horror, which we all fear. Considering the lack of activity on the outside, I figured this could be a minor event. I looked around and decided to leave this area and drive through the adjacent parking lot. I would find a better street to park, still have a view of the school, and not clog the road with my enormous bus.
From my new vantage point, I could see other buses still entering the school property. The police did not block off access to this area, so I went to my designated waiting location. All parked, with only a few minutes of delay, I opened my door so my students could board.
I heard an awful noise.
A loud alarm was sounding. It pierced through the entire school, reaching into the parking lot where I am and into the surrounding neighbourhood. It is overwhelming. The alarm would blare for a solid minute, loud and overpowering any other noise. An equal time of silence, then it screamed its urgency.
I saw another bus driver walking around. Typically, this is a social time for many drivers as we all wait for the kids to arrive. This time, everyone was staying in their buses. Initially, I thought it was because of the heavy mist and fog. I talked to her about this lockdown. She says something rather weird:
“Yeah, I am trying to stay out of bullet range.”
I must have had a look on my face when I heard that. “Bullet range?”
She explained to me that there were two kids with a gun in the school. One of the kids was “taken out alive” (said in a fashion that this detail was unexpected), and there is another holed up somewhere.
I was bewildered. I could not believe this was happening at the school I service. I was at the scene of a legitimate lockdown.
Time passed. I felt for the kids trapped inside. The alarm screamed every minute, for a solid minute, torturing already frightened kids. I began hearing rumours about what was happening. There was a stabbing. There are really ten kids with knives and two with guns. I was shown a picture of the kid arrested and escorted in handcuffs out of the school. I was angry that he had ruined his entire life over this incident.
And us bus drivers waited.
All of us drivers were hearing the same rumours of the events unfolding.
And we waited.
I texted my wife that I was going to be hours late. I had no idea how much longer this was going to take.
Not one bus moved. Occasionally, a bus would start and run so its driver could warm up as we all waited on this damp day. And we all waited, fearing what horror was inside.
For two hours, every bus stayed on site. Not one driver left. We all had a job to do—to get our kids home. On this day, with the fear of what could have been unfolding, this very simple-sounding task was made all the more critical.
Then it happened.
At first, it was a trickle, then it poured. Students were leaving the school and heading to the waiting buses. My first came on board and shouted to me in an overly excited voice, filled with every negative emotion she felt: “That was crazy! It was INSANE!”
More students boarded, all of them angry and agitated. They gathered, talking to everyone on the bus. They shared their experiences of what they had done during this stressful time. The anger subsided quickly, and it turned really sombre—sad, even. One student made a joke, appropriate for the situation, but not one that can or should be repeated now as I recount these events. They all laughed. I laughed. One student noticed and said, “Hey, you even made the bus driver laugh.” Another asked me when I got there. I replied at my usual time. From there, not one word was spoken.
It took a long time to leave the parking lot, as there was now an enormous amount of traffic surrounding the school. Eventually, I took every student home, and every single one of them was grateful to be done with this day.
The true story of what happened was that there were two students arrested over weapons charges. Yes, a gun was involved. A lot of it was over-stimulated teenage male bravado, which they will pay a heavy price for now. The stabbing? A totally unrelated medical event that happened at the worst timing. Was there going to be a mass shooting of the school on the scale that we tragically hear on the news? Not likely. But the police initiated a lockdown out of precaution.
This was still a very serious event. Thankfully, it was not the horrific outcome we all feared, but at the time, we bus drivers worried and heard the worst news.
And yet we stayed.
The drivers of Parkview, Attridge, and First Student all stayed. Every driver stayed to bring the kids home—our kids—the very kids we are entrusted with each and every single school day.
Not one driver flinched. Not one driver complained.
It makes me proud that I belong to this group of people who waited almost two hours over schedule and would have waited even longer and taken everyone home.
I am a school bus driver.
