The daily morning pick-ups and afternoon drop-offs are the routine of the school bus driver. It’s the activity trips that spice up our job. On Thursday morning at nine a.m. I began loading thirty-five FFA students who were on their way to the State FFA convention. The next three days were a nice break to my routine.

I live in a very small country town and signs of FFA (Future Farmers of America) are all around me. Often there are flyers announcing events and activities. Sometimes I see kids in the iconic blue FFA jackets. Even so I know very little about the program. I picture kids raising, grooming, and selling animals. It seemed probable to me that there would be animals at the convention. When the kids started arriving to load the bus I was surprised. These weren’t kids who were dressed to be working with animals—the boys were in black dress pants, white shirts, and ties; the girls wore black skirts, black tights, white blouses, and a tie. Both genders wore their short, blue FFA jackets with Mt. Nebo printed clearly on the back. They were dressed for business and they looked really nice.

The thirty-five kids filled the bus comfortably. Many had a seat to themselves while a few others had to share. School buses aren’t the most comfortable mode of travel. The high seat backs in the newer buses like mine make it so the kids can’t see those in the seats in front and behind them. So what do the kids want to do? They stand up to talk completely negating the safety feature of the padded seat backs. These kids were pretty good about staying seated although, “Sit down,” is the first call over the intercom after each loading.

I’ve been on other three-day trips where I drop the kids at their venue, and, except for lunch, leave them there all day. I get to go do what I want during that time. It’s like a vacation. Not on this trip. I drop them for lunch and then pick them up an hour later. I drop them at the venue and pick them up two hours later. I drop them at the motel for dinner and pick them up two hours later. I drop them at the venue for more meetings and pick them up three hours later. I drop them at the motel so they can change into street clothes for the night’s extra activity. I drop them at the venue where they see a hypnotist show and then pick them up at 11:15 pm for the last time that day. It is a lot of back and forth that keeps me on my toes. I can do what I want in those times in-between, but I can’t get so lost in what I am doing so as to miss the next pick up time.

The next day it’s much of the same back and forth. The activity on this night was a dance. It was fun to see the kids change out of their official FFA dress into their dance clothes. Their dance clothes were mainly jeans and nice button-up shirts, but I could tell they were brought special for the dance. It was mainly cowboy boots all around. I was able to come a bit early and look in on the dance. I watched 500 FFA kids do the Macarena. It was great.

Because this was a well-attended state event there were school buses everywhere. It was fun to check out the school district printed on the sides of the buses to see where they came from. The district names are usually the name of the county they serve. There are many like Wayne, Emery, and Garfield that I have no idea where they are in the state. I talked to one bus driver from a rural area who picks up kids in a town thirty-five miles away from the high school. That’s a long daily route. She talked of narrow misses with elk and deer in the canyons. I talked with another bus driver who had been driving for twenty-nine years. She was confident and pleasant after all her experience. I couldn’t help but feel what a rookie I am after my one year of full-time bus driving.

Parking at large events such as these is always an adventure. Bus drivers are on their own to find a place to put their forty-foot rig. Quite often a natural order will develop and buses will line up front to rear or beside each other. Other times buses just park helter-skelter wherever they can find space. There was a little bit of both at this venue. At the motel four of us lined up nicely on the vacant lot next door. I had a secret little lane I discovered where I dropped the kids off at the venue. It put them close to the entrance and we didn’t have to line up behind the other buses. On the second day another bus driver figured it out and beat me there. Sometimes you just can’t trust another bus driver.

The best part of the trip was the kids themselves. There is something invigorating about being close to youth. There was such a range of personalities that the more self-controlled kids balanced out those prone to acting out.

“No swearing on the bus!” one girl called out boldly as she got on and heard some farmyard language near the back. It was gratifying to see her in action. She wasn’t preaching. She was one of them and well-liked and appeared to just want to make the speaker be his best self. Another time I heard another girl call out amid the cacophony “This is a G-rated bus.” You don’t get that with all the different groups of kids you carry.

I sit in my seat as they load and their faces become familiar to me. After they see me a few times some of them will start to meet my eyes with a smile or a nod. I love it when that happens. A large part of this group would thank me for the ride each time they got off. Considering I dropped them sometimes six times in a day this almost got annoying. I try to respond sincerely and uniquely to each. Am I complaining about their consideration? No, I say keep annoying me!

I was opening the bus compound gate after I had made the final drop at our high school so I could pull the bus in and park it. The kids’ parents were picking them up and taking them home after their three-day adventure. As I pulled on the gate I heard a honk. I looked up to see an arm with the blue FFA jacket sleeve stretched out the window. A voice called “Thank you,” as the car passed and went on down the road. It had been a good trip.