Fridays are sweet for a lot of reasons, including the fact that fifth grader Liam Durant, who rides Marian Fuller’s bus 81, gets Dum-Dum suckers on his way home.
“She takes the time to pick out the root beers and put them in a little baggie for us,” Durant said. “It’s really kind and I really appreciate it.”
Give or take a few years, Fuller has driven an Albemarle County school bus since 1980 when her own kids were small, buses were manual, not automatic, and health insurance and retirement options for drivers didn’t exist. Neither did much bus driver training.
“It’s a whole lot more about driving a school bus than people think,” Fuller said. “It’s just bigger, having to watch your turns, and driving with, some people say, with two classrooms of kids behind you. You have to put yourself in a different mode when you’re behind the wheel, you know. If you’re in rush mode, trying to get to work, you need to step back, calm yourself down before you get behind the wheel so you’re not having that stress to deal with right then.”
At 77, Fuller’s perfected her approach. All the usual rules apply—no standing up, keep the aisles clear, your voice down, and your hands to yourself—but there are other ones, too.
Salutations are important; so are thank yous. Fridays are treat days. And everyone has an assigned seat.
“Kids like to know where they’re going,” Fuller explained. “If you watch the kids get on the bus then they don’t have assigned seats, they’re walking and they’re looking about, you know, ‘Who am I going to sit next to?’ or ‘Is there going to be a seat for me?’ They feel better knowing they have someplace to go to.”
School days start well before sun-up. After checking 81’s tires, fluids, and lights, Fuller’s first pick-up is at 6:35 AM, and school begins by 8:00. By 8:15, Fuller starts her second run, and by nine, she’s delivered a second busload to Monticello High School. Come afternoon, it all happens again, except in reverse, with the added complication of printed rosters that help kids get where they need to be and drivers confirm that they’re met at the bus stop by the right people—when they remember their IDs.
One Albemarle stepfather forgot his.
“He’s not in a hurry, is he? He needs to run,” Fuller said, watching one stepfather’s reapproach.
“He doesn’t run because he’s nervous his pants are going to fall,” the little girl said, “because he says he doesn’t have a bottom.”
“Buy him a belt for Christmas!” Fuller laughs.
Fuller has an intimate view of kids’ lives. Before the school year begins, she visits families to introduce herself. She knows when siblings fall ill, when parents split, and sometimes when kids struggle.
“I’ve had them say they go home, parents would think they’re big enough to stay home by themselves, and they would go in the closet and stay in the closet until the parents got home, because they didn’t want to be at home by themselves.
“You know, they tell us, ‘Well, it’s not your bus,’ and all, but they’re our kids. You have them for so long, and some of them you may be glad to see move on, others not,” she said. “You’re happy for them. It’s kind of funny to watch them grow, see how they do.”
Fuller says the job’s made her more patient—with kids and adults, even those who can be hard to share the road with.
“I have to speak to that parent,” Fuller said. “I can’t turn my nose at them and glare at them, you know. You can’t do that. If you want the kids to respect you have to respect them too.”
This report, provided by Virginia Public Radio, was made possible with support from the Virginia Education Association.