Twice a year, just ten days, I enter these halls
Not to teach but to simply herd.
Like Pavlov's mutts, the bell tolls
And we shuffle in step like sheep called to
Arrive half hour early, they charge;
Stand here, they bark.
And I post myself as sentry
To a thousand soldiers who must not
Leave the gates of camp.
So they gather, waiting for my inattention,
Hoping for my sympathy, explaining their
Stories and counting on my
Humanity as I swing my arm to let some pass
While others languish.
Each day is tainted by the ugliness
That bus duty imbues upon my soul.
Grouchy, impatient, repetitive - I shake my head,
No, no, no - you may NOT go!
Until the tolling bell releases us all.
Given my strong feelings about bus duty, I considered writing a limerick. I thought that might get pretty risque and shocking very quickly though, so I re-evaluated that plan. Instead, here's a bit of a complaint poem focusing on bus duty.