Week 7: Big Yellow American School Buses

I’m not sure why, but when I moved to America, my first memory was waiting for the school bus on the first day of school. I wasn't excited for school, I was excited to see the big yellow American school buses. I don’t know why I was so fixated on the idea of a yellow bus, but I remember my brother and sister had told me about how in America you ride to school on a “big yellow bus.” It’s not really a staple of American culture right? They’re not very glamorous.

On that cold February morning, I stood at the end of my driveway with my mom, my brother, and 3 other kids from our street and eagerly awaited the big yellow bus. 

I wore a lilac purple knit hat, and it was snowing outside, which was also a big deal. In Ireland, we don’t get snow. It usually stays a solid 50 degrees year-round, with nonstop rain and clouds. So, to see piles and piles of snow was like living a dream, this was the stuff you only see on American TV shows. 

            

Rory & I living it up in America - 2005

I was solely focused on the yellow bus, while my brother, Rory, had already made a new friend, a boy his age who lived 3 doors down from us. He was pretending like the bus was no big deal, but secretly I know he was excited to see it too.

The bus came, and I was in awe. It was so yellow, and so big. Once I got on the bus my amazement quickly vanished and turned into anxiety as I watched my brother sit in the back of the bus with all the other 6^th graders and his new best friend. 

Wait a minute… this bus isn’t cool at all, it’s my nightmare. I’ve always been a very shy person and I remember this so vividly because of the pure terror I felt looking at the bus and realizing I might have to sit with some random kindergarteners that I don’t know.

We moved in the middle of the school year, and Shelby Twp. isn’t exactly Ellis Island, so our schools (my brother and I’s elementary school and my sister’s Catholic high school) made a big deal about the new Irish immigrants. Looking back on it now, it is kind of a rare oddity to see an Irish person around here, granted, my mom has managed to find every single Irish person within a 20-mile radius, but we were still unique to the area.

Back on the bus, I quietly followed Rory to the back, ignoring all of the stares from the kids on the bus. My brother sat in the very last seat on the left and I stood there, patiently waiting for him to scooch over and let me sit. Of course, he didn’t, because what cool big brother would let their little sister cramp their style on the first day? And in front of his brand-new friend? Blasphemy.

“Go sit up front, that’s where the kindergarteners sit,” he whispered, “this is only for sixth graders.” I believed him, not realizing that these are kind of just casual rules of the bus, but still, I didn’t want to sit with kids I didn’t know.

So, I did what any annoying little sister would do, and ratted him out to the bus driver. Without missing a beat, she pulled over the bus and stomped down the aisle, and told him that I was his little sister, it was our first day, and how dare he do this to me. Rory fumbled his words, trying to make up some excuse as to why I can’t sit with him, but the bus driver is the boss on the bus, so she ultimately won.

I remember smiling all the way to school. I sat in between my brother and his new friend, at the back of the bus as a kindergartener, I felt like the coolest girl in the world. Rory wasn’t happy, he spent the whole time huffing and puffing.

***

The school day is kind of a blur. I remember we had all eyes on us, everyone was asking us all sorts of questions about Ireland, such as:

“Do you have clouds in Ireland?”

“Does everyone wear green?”

“Does everyone eat Lucky Charms for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”

You know, the important questions on every kid’s mind.

Rory’s first complaint when he got home was that he needed to get new clothes.

“No one here wears football jerseys mom!” Rory’s style in Ireland consisted mainly of tracksuit bottoms that were always too small because he wouldn’t stop growing, and Irish football (soccer) jerseys. It wasn’t the same here, during 2005, the style was much more consistent with Abercrombie polos and jeans.

Brooke & I - 2007

I had no complaints when I got home, the only thing on my mind was my new best friend Brooke. We met on that first day in our kindergarten class, and we are still best friends to this day. We spent almost every day together during elementary school.

In retrospect, Brooke made America a lot less scary for me. Packing up your whole life and starting brand new in a completely different culture is really scary, even though I was only 6, and adjusting at that age is much easier than when you are older. 

In a way, I think my brother and sister’s way of making me more comfortable was coming up with this magical “yellow school bus,” it gave me something to look forward to on my first day of school.

Prom 2017 - Brooke & I went together

To 6-year old’s, the idea of moving from Ireland to America is much simpler than it really is. There’s no way to comprehend the magnitude of moving that far away, and for my new American friends, they didn’t see me as much different, it was like I moved from one town over.

Brooke and her mom always laugh about what Brooke had said after she met me on that first day of school. She went home that day and confidently told her mom, “I met a girl at school today from Ireland!”

 “Wow, that’s great honey,”

“I know! We are already friends, and guess what? She comes to school every day on a PLANE! She flies over here for school and then flies back home to Ireland after school.”

Her mom laughed and told her that’s not how that works, to which Brooke appropriately responded with sobs and denial, “Yes, she does mom! That’s what she told me!”

Baby me hiking the Mourne Mountains in County Down - 2001