LITMIR.BIZ

      Preface

      Tom Brandon

      For over thirty years, I have had the privilege to be a part of education. During that time, I have taught, coached, and driven the bus. Most of these years have been at a small rural school—the chickens free-ranging the school grounds are an indication of just how rural.

      The school is in north Alabama and is called Walnut Grove. The members of the community know hard work and the importance of family. They talk of work, school, church, hunting, and fishing. Camouflage is considered proper attire, for men or women, for any occasion.

      When established in 1920, Walnut Grove went all the way through high school; it is now a K-6 school with about 250 students.

      Walnut Grove’s commitment to excellence in education has won it awards on local, state, and national levels, including recognition as a National Blue Ribbon School by the U.S. Department of Education. What makes the school great is its faculty and staff and the community members who take pride in it.

      Every school is unique, and Walnut Grove is no exception. We often use the phrase “Only at the Grove” to refer to the many unusual things that have happened at our little school over the years.

      We celebrated Sweet Potato Day, by accident, when a farmer came unannounced to the school with an overabundant amount of sweet potatoes. We sent a bag of sweet potatoes home with each child.

      One year, many months of work had been expended on a new baseball field. Opening day was looked forward to with great anticipation. But on that momentous morning, the game had to be moved to the visitors’ field, for during the night there had been a light rain. The rain itself was not enough to cancel the game, but it did soften the ground. Meanwhile, the dairy cattle on the other side of the fence developed a hunger for the delicious-looking grass on the new ball field. They came through the fence and left hundreds of six-inch-deep cow tracks all over the field.

      We have paraded in costume, trick-or-treated in the hallways, and held a haunted house in the locker room of the gym. Because of the school’s small enrollment, we have been able to bus Walnut Grove’s whole student body over to the local high school for the homecoming parade.

      We have played donkey basketball. Yes, that’s basketball while riding on donkeys. We’ve raised money in good Southern tradition by cooking chicken stew outside in big cast iron pots, held turkey shoots before Thanksgiving, and chili and bingo nights that get rather competitive. We even have a ghost.

      Walnut Grove is a special place with special people. The stories that I share in this book are from my bus riders. I sincerely thank the students who have made my life richer by letting me be a part of their lives, as well as those that have ridden many miles on “Mr. Brandon’s School Bus” through social media. All have encouraged me to put these stories into print.

      What makes these stories funny and engaging is that we all know these children. They are our childhood friends, our neighbors, or our own children. I hope you have as much enjoyment reading about them as I have had in bringing them to you.

      Tom Brandon has been a teacher, coach, and bus driver, and over the years he has served on a number of advisory councils. His awards include Teacher of the Year at his local school, the Coca-Cola Always Teaching Award, and the Steve Harvey Neighborhood Award.

Family Outing

      A first-grader approached the bus holding a small stuffed rabbit, a Mickey Mouse, and a toy cell phone. As I opened the door he said, “These are the little ones, and I’m keeping an eye on them today.” He then looked down at them and said, “You guys are killing me!”

      He seated himself, and them, and told them he was going to talk to me, but he would be keeping an eye on them. He showed me his phone and said, “If you don’t mind I need to call my girlfriend.”

      It was definitely a woman on the other end. I could tell by the tone of the conversation. He started, “Yes, I’m on the bus, and I have the little ones with me. Yes, yes, yes, okay, yes, yes hun, okay, talk to you later.”

      Then he proceeded to call his buddy, Bob. “Hey, Bob. What you doing? . . . I’m on the bus with the little ones . . . Yes, I’ve got to keep an eye on them today . . . Yes, it’s their first time to ride the bus, but they’re doing all right.”

      I’m not sure if this information about the little ones messed up a hunting trip or guys’ night on the town, but the next thing he said was, “Bob, don’t you hang up on me.”

      He looked at me, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I’ll have to call him back later.”

      You never know when the burden of responsibility will be thrust upon you.

Where the Buffalo Roam

      School bus route pickups start early and lend themselves to seeing some beautiful sunrises.

      On such a morning, I had made several stops and was exiting a neighborhood. I eased the bus around a corner and brought it to a stop at the intersection. The bus was facing toward the rising sun and there, silhouetted against the sky, was a mother buffalo and her calf.

      I could not help but pause and contemplate the beauty of God’s creation. Feeling kindly toward all men, I prepared to move on when an excited voice from behind me called, “Mr. Brandon, he just threw up.”

      Looking in the mirror, I saw the offender peer over the seat with his little red face and watery eyes. He cleared his throat and said, “Mr. Brandon, what’s for breakfast?”

      Charles

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