When I entered my class room, I realized I forgot my gift shop money.

When the bus to our field trip to the San Jacinto Monument arrived, I realized I forgot my glasses.

When the bus began moving, we were all disgruntled because of a stern talking our bus driver gave us.

“My name is Mr. Roberts,” he had said before. “I will be your bus driver today.” He gave us a stern glare and there was no more whispers.

“On this bus,” he said, jabbing a finger toward the floor of the bus and stomping as if we didn’t know what he was talking about. He continued, “there will be no shouting, and no body parts will be found outside windows.”

He squinted, and said, “Loopholes are not tolerated. You know what I mean.” He furrowed his brow. “Also, there are no feet to be found inside the aisle.”

“I will not tolerate rude behavior.” With a final furrow of his brow, he walked off, and sat on his cool bouncy drivers seat.

The walky talky hooked above Mr. Roberts crackled, and he answered, “Bus number *** now leaving school grounds. Trip has begun, over.”

Half of the kids cheered and shouted joyfully. Half of the kids just smiled (I was one of this group).

The bus wheels emitted a loud, forced, angry squeak. Mr. Roberts walked out to the aisle, his hands clenched into fists.

“What did I say about shouting?” He said, almost shouting himself. The noise level immediately plummeted.

He stepped back to the drivers seat and made the narrow turn onto the residential road our school was on. In a few moments, we were on the road.

Soon, people began chatting more. Some kids in the back began singing the all too familiar “We will, we will, rocket! We will, we will, rocket…” until a “a-hem” cough came from the bus driver, a little bit too loud to be plausible.

The stern talking had lowered our spirits, but with the constant giggling of the girls and the grinning and the laughing of the boys, everyone was soon very happy.

to be continued

And said the man, “do not fear, for this article will be continued…”