I drive every fifth, sixth, seventh, and eight grader in my little town thirteen miles to school each day. When they all ride, they fill up the bus. These kids are neighbors in town, and very close neighbors on the bus. The fifth graders sit up front. The sixth graders come next. Then there are the seventh graders with the eighth graders in back. How could it be any different?

In the very front passenger side seat, across the aisle from me, sit two fifth grade boys. An angry mother brought them to my attention on the first day of school. That’s why they have the seat of honor.

One of these two boys intrigues me. He’s your basic rural, small town boy. He rides his motorcycle one block to the bus stop. He wears the mandatory farmer’s cap high on his head. He’s blond and has a bright smile that doesn’t quite hide the mischievousness in his blue eyes.  He’s healthy, but slightly on the small side. He’s definitely gregarious. He talks loud enough for most on the bus to hear him. That’s no accident. He likes attention.

Outside of the incident that brought him to the “seat of honor,” what caught my attention is that one of the eighth grade girls always bops him on the head with her hand when she passes his seat during loading or unloading. He grins broadly and protects his head as she takes a couple of shots on the way by. It appears to be a game he enjoys. One day the girl walked by without noticing him.

“What? No walloping?” I asked. “You must be having an off day.”

He nodded and looked disappointed. The next day things were back to normal and he got a thumping.

There is another eighth grade girl who just moved into town. She doesn’t know many people yet. She asked if she could sit up front for a couple of days for a reason that wasn’t clear to me. We talked and I got to know her a bit. Before we reached her stop on the second day I heard scuffling and laughter just behind me. I glanced in my mirror to see her wrestling with the fifth grade boy over his hat. These two live on opposite sides of town and don’t know each other. She is three years older than him. Still, he got her attention. It became clear to me that this fifth grade boy is a babe magnet.

Within the next few weeks my suspicious were verified. I pick up the fifth graders at the elementary school before traveling to the junior high school for the rest of the kids. I assigned the boys seats up front and noticed that the girls would sit close to them. There would be a general ruckus on the bus as the boys showed off with loud, boy nonsense talk followed by fake fart contests. For some reason the girls ate this up. They seemed fascinated by the boys. My fair haired fifth grader was the center of attention.

To help contain the ruckus I allowed the boys to sit in the back until we got to the junior high. The next thing I knew, the girls were back there with them. The ruckus continued.  I moved the girls to the back and made the boys sit up front. The girls were happy they got to sit in the back until they realized the boys were way up front. I can still see the disappointment on their faces. The distance between them and their star was too great.

My regular bus with the assigned seats broke down. I was assigned a loaner bus. This messed up my seating arrangement for the kids. The other day I looked in my mirror to see my fifth grader sitting between two girls. It’s pretty crowded with three in a seat. Across the aisle was a seat with only one boy in it. My fifth grader was smiling at me.

The next day I saw my fifth grader slip from his seat with his assigned seatmate and try to scoot in with two girls. To their credit they didn’t scoot over for him.  To my credit I made sure he went back to his seat and stayed there.

Whatever this fifth grade boy has there are many high school boys who wish they had it.  Whatever this fifth grade boy has I wish he didn’t.  He’s on my bus for the next three and half years. It’s going to take a special seating assignment each year to keep girlkind safe from him on the way to and from school each day. I’m glad that off the bus he’s not my problem. Of course, he will be somebody’s problem. I’m wondering if I should alert the principal. Oh, well, he probably already knows.

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