I remember endless miles of dusty gravel,
My bus rider's sweaty hands
Leaving muddy grime,
Gripping rigid seats,
Dreading the monster in back
Whose sudden summons meant abuse:
Swearing,
Spittle,
Thumping heads,
Nameless dreads.

Cruel laughter
From the helpless others'
Deep-drilled belief
That no one cared,
That living through grade school
Meant being scared,
Meant pain in the gut,
Meant years of climbing
Out of isolation.

==================
Brought sweat to my palms as memories returned. I have dedicated my life to providing safety to my students in part due to hard time I spent traveling 80 miles per day over dusty Montana gravel roads on an old yellow bus with a monster in the back seats.... Nearly 50 years later, I may tell the rest of the story, but not yet....