The ride took two hours but felt like less. We were fresh and ready for adventure.
We stepped off the bus, into the chilly 48˚ air, into a colonial village in the foothills above Los Angeles to learn.
We explored crafts and customs of the time: the manners and expectations so far removed from our digital, neon-colored existence.
After lunch, we boarded the bus. Tired and cold.
Driving down the narrow mountain road, I saw a dark wall of low-lying clouds.
It came down. Hard. The rain banged on the metal bus roof and summoned quiet.
No one wanted to be on this bus ride. But we had no choice.
That’s how life is sometimes.
We don’t get what we want now.
Sometimes we don’t get what we want at all.
We have to suck it up and hang in there. Knowing, or maybe believing, we will get there.
We have to have patience. With ourselves, our neighbors, the traffic.
Some fell asleep.
Some colored.
Some talked.
Some played cards.
Some stared out the window.
Some invented games.
Some thought.
What seemed interminable and impossible was tolerated. Being kids, they couldn’t help themselves. They laughed and talked and played and invented. Being humans they couldn’t help but look around and notice and wonder and learn.
I learned R notices the small things, on the side of the street and all over the bus. I found out about E’s cats, and that B had an art show this weekend; that K has a beautiful singing voice, and A has incredible patience. B knows everything about Mustangs and Cameros and cool looking motorcycles; T’s sister is starting college, and R’s sister is trying to get straight As.
R, E, O, B, T, and A learned more about my kids, my cat, and my knowledge of songs. That I’m not good at remembering song titles, but I like many of the songs they like.
I listened and learned a lot about the children I sat beside. We sat, and we shared our space, our noticings, our wonders, our experiences, what we had inside.
We learned. We got along.
That long ride was not planned or wanted, but it added to our understandings of the world and each other.
And we all got home.
This week, I celebrate a long ride home.
Thank you, Ruth, for your weekly call to celebrate the week. Read more celebrations here.
To Read To Write To Be 
I just love the way you see the sunny side even in the clouds and the storm. There is nothing like a long bus ride to get to know your students.
That long ride was not planned or wanted, but it added to our understandings of the world and each other.
So true – and this is the way with the school year itself – we learn about each other, we make the best of it, we make do.
You didn’t just make lemonade out of lemons. You made lemon meringue pie out of the situation.
I’ve been on many bus trips with students, special getting-to-know time as you beautifully shared.
I also love this line: That long ride was not planned or wanted, but it added to our understandings of the world and each other.
I’m going to think about this the next time the unexpected occurs!!
Like the person above (Sally), I appreciated your line – “That long ride was not planned or wanted….” Sometimes the unexpected comes and there are still positives to be found.
Wonderful lesson learned: No one wanted to be on this bus ride. But we had no choice./That’s how life is sometimes./We don’t get what we want now./Sometimes we don’t get what we want at all./We have to suck it up and hang in there. Knowing, or maybe believing, we will get there.