I step aboard the stairs leading to the bus’s interior. It’s the beginning of the school year. I find a seat, but it has to be the right seat. I glance down to see people I know, if there is someone I am friends with I’ll sit by them. If not, location is key. I don’t want to sit too far back, otherwise I might look like I’m trying be cool. But if I sit too far front I might come off as a teacher’s pet, and I don’t want that either. Better settle for something in the middle, but not too central to where the teacher will easily call on me.
Now I sit, in the seat I have chosen. But wait, now I might have to move, if the teacher has created a seating chart, that is. This is normally the case. At least I don’t have to worry about where to sit anymore. I look out of the windows of the bus. The teacher writes something on the board. I should probably write it down, but I have to read what is says first. Everyday I board this bus. I look at the world around me. I speak as little as possible, only when called on, or I have something interesting to say.
I ride the bus everyday. To and from each stop. Getting of the bus is the good part, I don’t have to worry about what I see when I look outside, because now I am off the bus and somewhere else. If I ride this bus again and again, it will sustain me. But, sometimes I’d rather walk to my destination.