Dean the Bus Driver

Of all the many bus drivers I had through my years in public school--through two elementary schools and junior high school--I only remember one of them.

Dean Taylor was the very first bus driver I ever had. I still remember waiting for Dean's big yellow bus to pull up in front of our old white house on a rural road. As a kindergartener, I was excited about everything school related, I suppose, but I remember eagerly looking forward to rides on Dean's bus.

Dean's bus was a cheerful bus, and when the doors opened and you walked up the stairs to the bus, a friendly old man greeted you warmly, calling you by name. And you knew you were special and loved. Dean was famous for his brown paper bags filled with candy, which he would deliver on your birthday or when you were sick.

The fond feelings we had for Dean were shared by our whole family, and when we would drive by his house (a few miles down the road from our house), we would often point out to each other the long white barn where he kept his bus.

Dean died last week; he was 94 years old, and his obituary page on the newspaper Web site is filled with comments from kids who rode his bus over the years.

Now my daughter is in kindergarten and rides the bus every day. Caroline's bus drivers (she has two because it's a special needs bus) are Dean-like in their care for the children. They are always so cheerful and they greet Caroline with obvious love and delight. One of them does some knitting, and she gave Caroline a knitted hat at Christmas time and a knitted shamrock on St. Patrick's Day.

I'm grateful for bus drivers like Dean and like the two women who drive Caroline to and from school. Such people can have a significant impact on a child's life.