bus pass
The Overprotected Kid by Hanna Rosin
This article is at minimum a thought provoking read. Here are some of my thoughts.
I most certainly did not have the idyllic scamper in the woods and wade in the creek childhood. First off, no woods or creek were to be found, and second, until I was probably 13 years old, I wouldn't have walked around my block by myself. At age 10, I could walk one block down my street to visit friends but I needed parental permission first. My neighborhood wasn't the most idyllic place in the 1980's. It was a neighborhood in transition. My Gram, who had owned our 3 bedroom bungalow since 1954, knew all the old neighbors, the long time residents. But slowly those old neighbors faded away, this one to live closer to his kids, that one to the eldercare home because she had called 911 too many times. In their place came new neighbors and friends but occasionally it was chaos that decamped for awhile instead.
While my memories of the life and times of my neighborhood are that it was mostly peace and tranquility, punctuating the quiet moments were occasions that were probably not the standard fare for my classmates at Private Christian School. During the 18 years I lived there, our house was broken into 9 or 10 times, we saw police raids, there was a stabbing (thankfully not fatal) of a man on the lawn next door to our house, there was an arson of the garage of the house next door to ours (people lived in there but everyone was OK), people shot guns into the air on all major holidays (we always wondered a bit about the neighbor who would shoot his gun to celebrate Mother's Day), sometimes people didn't only shoot up in the air, and I have many memories of the police helicopter circling overhead (occasionally announcing that they were in pursuit of an escapee from the county jail, about 10 blocks away). Looking back, I do understand why some of my friends in high school were forbidden by their parents to drive into my neighborhood after dark.
And I haven't even mentioned the night a truck hit my house (note: We did not live on a corner and it did not hit the part of our house closest to the street)
So riding my bike around my neighborhood or meeting kids at the local park were not options in my life. BUT we did not live a house-bound existence. With my mom and Gram, I took walks all through our neighborhood, not just during the day but in the evenings and after dark as well. We knew people all along our routes (here an old friend from the neighborhood church, there someone whose flowers and plantings had caught my Gram's eye) and though we did have discussion about what to do if someone approached us in a threatening manner or if there was gunfire, we mostly felt perfectly safe and happy to walk. My mom and I would walk and she'd quiz me on my spelling words, or my state capitals, or the muscles of a cat. But walking in our neighborhood was a leisure activity.
That all began to change when my Gram totaled her car sometime around my freshman year of high school. We dropped down to having a single car (convenient because we had a single car garage and no driveway) and my mom began to take the bus to work. Suddenly the bus system, which had always been invisibly around us, was now part of our lives. My mom's work was a 3-block walk and then a 12-minute bus ride away, so public transport was perfect for her. I was still getting driven to and from school (often as part of a carpool). The summer after my freshman year, I took a summer school class at the local high school. My Gram would drive me to school in the mornings but as I got comfortable with the routine and my new environment, I realized that some of the kids that lived near me walked home from school. So I asked and got permission to walk home. I followed a pre-approved route, and I think I remember having some bit of anxiety on the first time I made the trip alone, but soon I walked home frequently. And it was so convenient, no waiting around at the school if class got out early. I was navigating by myself a distance of about 2.2 miles through my city with about half of that being through the familiar neighborhoods where we often walked.
The next summer I took a chemistry class at a local community college. Very quickly I realized that the irregular end times of our lab sessions were not going to be compatible with having my Gram pick me up. The bus system could take me right to the college and could take me home again. I became the proud owner of a monthly bus pass. I do remember, though, that my Gram would drive me to a bus stop in the morning (about a mile from our house) and have me get on the bus there instead of taking two buses and transferring. I realized later (or she told me) that she was having me avoid what would have been the most obvious transfer point because it was an intersection notorious for gang activity and violence. She didn't want me spending time on that corner. My return route allowed me to totally avoid that intersection and I traveled home by bus and walking. Now I was navigating a distance of about 7 miles on my own.
And the bus was fascinating. I watched people and listened to people and learned which bus drivers were side-splittingly funny. I talked to all kinds of people. And when the school year rolled around, my mom and I purchased our September bus passes together and I began riding the bus to school. My high school was only about 5 miles away and I could get there by walking three blocks and catching one bus, and then transferring to a second bus. My transfer point was near an elementary school and at the intersection of two large streets. I was soon friends with all the crossing guards who worked at the intersection each morning. I practiced my halting Spanish with patient and kind fellow travelers. I felt very comfortable and happy. When you are a regular on a bus route, you get to know the other regulars and it means you look out for people and people look out for you. I was always aware of my surroundings and very alert (especially while waiting to transfer to the next bus), but I never really had any trouble. As far as I can remember, I was one of only three students at Private Christian School that took the (city) bus to school (there was no other busing available). And I was the only girl.
Though I didn't get my driver's license until after I graduated from high school (what was the point? our family had one car), I had a lovely amount of freedom due to my bus pass. I could walk to the enormous mall that is a little over a mile from my high school, wander and window shop and then take the bus home from there. A couple times I did get on the wrong bus but I quickly realized my mistake, got back off, and with advice from the bus driver figured out how to continue on my way home. The bus system could take you to the beach and once I even took the bus to a friend's house, despite the fact that she lived a good half hour away by car.
My ability to navigate my way around my city and my county was an important part of my passage to adulthood. I was transformed from a passive rider in a car to an active commuter. My ability to give directions and to name streets increased substantially. The idea that I was capable was delightful. My skills weren't developed in a risk free setting (quite the reverse, as I see it all typed out) but they were developed in a sensible way that allowed me to flourish.
This article is at minimum a thought provoking read. Here are some of my thoughts.
I most certainly did not have the idyllic scamper in the woods and wade in the creek childhood. First off, no woods or creek were to be found, and second, until I was probably 13 years old, I wouldn't have walked around my block by myself. At age 10, I could walk one block down my street to visit friends but I needed parental permission first. My neighborhood wasn't the most idyllic place in the 1980's. It was a neighborhood in transition. My Gram, who had owned our 3 bedroom bungalow since 1954, knew all the old neighbors, the long time residents. But slowly those old neighbors faded away, this one to live closer to his kids, that one to the eldercare home because she had called 911 too many times. In their place came new neighbors and friends but occasionally it was chaos that decamped for awhile instead.
While my memories of the life and times of my neighborhood are that it was mostly peace and tranquility, punctuating the quiet moments were occasions that were probably not the standard fare for my classmates at Private Christian School. During the 18 years I lived there, our house was broken into 9 or 10 times, we saw police raids, there was a stabbing (thankfully not fatal) of a man on the lawn next door to our house, there was an arson of the garage of the house next door to ours (people lived in there but everyone was OK), people shot guns into the air on all major holidays (we always wondered a bit about the neighbor who would shoot his gun to celebrate Mother's Day), sometimes people didn't only shoot up in the air, and I have many memories of the police helicopter circling overhead (occasionally announcing that they were in pursuit of an escapee from the county jail, about 10 blocks away). Looking back, I do understand why some of my friends in high school were forbidden by their parents to drive into my neighborhood after dark.
And I haven't even mentioned the night a truck hit my house (note: We did not live on a corner and it did not hit the part of our house closest to the street)
So riding my bike around my neighborhood or meeting kids at the local park were not options in my life. BUT we did not live a house-bound existence. With my mom and Gram, I took walks all through our neighborhood, not just during the day but in the evenings and after dark as well. We knew people all along our routes (here an old friend from the neighborhood church, there someone whose flowers and plantings had caught my Gram's eye) and though we did have discussion about what to do if someone approached us in a threatening manner or if there was gunfire, we mostly felt perfectly safe and happy to walk. My mom and I would walk and she'd quiz me on my spelling words, or my state capitals, or the muscles of a cat. But walking in our neighborhood was a leisure activity.
That all began to change when my Gram totaled her car sometime around my freshman year of high school. We dropped down to having a single car (convenient because we had a single car garage and no driveway) and my mom began to take the bus to work. Suddenly the bus system, which had always been invisibly around us, was now part of our lives. My mom's work was a 3-block walk and then a 12-minute bus ride away, so public transport was perfect for her. I was still getting driven to and from school (often as part of a carpool). The summer after my freshman year, I took a summer school class at the local high school. My Gram would drive me to school in the mornings but as I got comfortable with the routine and my new environment, I realized that some of the kids that lived near me walked home from school. So I asked and got permission to walk home. I followed a pre-approved route, and I think I remember having some bit of anxiety on the first time I made the trip alone, but soon I walked home frequently. And it was so convenient, no waiting around at the school if class got out early. I was navigating by myself a distance of about 2.2 miles through my city with about half of that being through the familiar neighborhoods where we often walked.
The next summer I took a chemistry class at a local community college. Very quickly I realized that the irregular end times of our lab sessions were not going to be compatible with having my Gram pick me up. The bus system could take me right to the college and could take me home again. I became the proud owner of a monthly bus pass. I do remember, though, that my Gram would drive me to a bus stop in the morning (about a mile from our house) and have me get on the bus there instead of taking two buses and transferring. I realized later (or she told me) that she was having me avoid what would have been the most obvious transfer point because it was an intersection notorious for gang activity and violence. She didn't want me spending time on that corner. My return route allowed me to totally avoid that intersection and I traveled home by bus and walking. Now I was navigating a distance of about 7 miles on my own.
And the bus was fascinating. I watched people and listened to people and learned which bus drivers were side-splittingly funny. I talked to all kinds of people. And when the school year rolled around, my mom and I purchased our September bus passes together and I began riding the bus to school. My high school was only about 5 miles away and I could get there by walking three blocks and catching one bus, and then transferring to a second bus. My transfer point was near an elementary school and at the intersection of two large streets. I was soon friends with all the crossing guards who worked at the intersection each morning. I practiced my halting Spanish with patient and kind fellow travelers. I felt very comfortable and happy. When you are a regular on a bus route, you get to know the other regulars and it means you look out for people and people look out for you. I was always aware of my surroundings and very alert (especially while waiting to transfer to the next bus), but I never really had any trouble. As far as I can remember, I was one of only three students at Private Christian School that took the (city) bus to school (there was no other busing available). And I was the only girl.
Though I didn't get my driver's license until after I graduated from high school (what was the point? our family had one car), I had a lovely amount of freedom due to my bus pass. I could walk to the enormous mall that is a little over a mile from my high school, wander and window shop and then take the bus home from there. A couple times I did get on the wrong bus but I quickly realized my mistake, got back off, and with advice from the bus driver figured out how to continue on my way home. The bus system could take you to the beach and once I even took the bus to a friend's house, despite the fact that she lived a good half hour away by car.
My ability to navigate my way around my city and my county was an important part of my passage to adulthood. I was transformed from a passive rider in a car to an active commuter. My ability to give directions and to name streets increased substantially. The idea that I was capable was delightful. My skills weren't developed in a risk free setting (quite the reverse, as I see it all typed out) but they were developed in a sensible way that allowed me to flourish.