School bus

1924, in a small house my grandfather rented from a local farmer. In those days there was no hospital maternity ward, birth occurred at home with the help of a midwife. This small rural community is where he spent his childhood years; attending school, playing with friends, working and going to church. During his teenage years, Dad worked with his older brother Robert and my grandfather at a nearby sawmill. He was assigned the job of “off-bearer.” It was his job to remove the freshly cut boards

transportation many people commonly picture bus service. In the Bloomington-Normal urban area, the public bus service is Connect Transit, which recently embraced its new name, leaving behind the clunky name Bloomington-Normal Public Transportation System possibly in efforts to rebrand its entire image. The image of public transportation however, may not be able to be rebranded as there seems to be a certain stigma which is affiliated with relying on the bus service as a primary means of transportation

four-year-old to handle the very first day of school. The day in which they will step into a classroom for the very first time. The first day is where everyone can meet their friends and socialize. Unfortunately, for me, I was not a social bird. I knew the first day of class was going to be dreadful; therefore, I did what any patriot would have done during the 1760s, I protested. Angrily I hid under my bed at 6 am in the morning, I was not going to school. After I was found by my mom, I was stripped

When she was a kid, the school bus—her first foray into public transportation—had been a social mine field, a place to keep her head down and her mouth shut, lest she become a target for the ubiquitous bullies looming in the back. If possible, she’d sit right behind the driver, engage him or her in conversation. The proximity to an adult and the appearance of relationship, however flimsy, seemed to provide some kind of amnesty, a temporary buffer until she could get off the bus and make a beeline for

people loved me for who I was.  My freckles, cheap shoes, and pointy ears didn’t change how I was thought about.  If I wanted to, the cool kids would let me play with them.  But, in middle school it all changed.  Kids found other friends and left me behind in the dust with my old clothes. “Hurry up kiddo, the bus will be here in three minutes,” Mom said. “What ever,” I mumbled.  I

Ana woke up to the sound of her alarm blaring in her ear. She smacked it onto the floor and pulled her pillow over her face. She groaned, school was starting, summer was over. Ana didn't mind school, she liked to learn. It was just, the bullying every year was horrible for her. She would get beaten up, and at lunch, the other kids would throw food at her. Even Ana's own sister, Ame, bullied her. Ana pushed back these thoughts and put her glasses on. She pulled her hair into loose pigtails and put

growing demand for working environment outside the traditional office space and also increase the utilization of spaces in public areas, such as restaurants and coffee chain shops. Bus Guru app seeks to address the commuter demand for 'bus-specific, real-time' information on all Transport for London buses, along with bus schedule information, and also holds a first-mover advantage in this market space. Addressing the need for locating and fixing road

the door to school. Every day at school, Lilian sat next to her best and only friend, Lucy. Lucy and Lilian were very different. Lucy was outgoing and best friends with everyone, and Lilian was very shy and only talked to Lucy. Every day before Lilian went home, she went to the meadow. The meadow was her favorite place in the whole world. The meadow was filled with beautiful flowers that stretched for a very long distance. Lilian went to the meadow because every Friday after school her mother

in my life that I would never forget. It was when Christ Church School took us all to Chessington World of Adventures for an end of Y9 trip. I don't remember the exact date seeing as this was two years ago, but I remember all the main events and important goings on. It all started when I woke up for school, normal time, in my normal routine, although I didn't pack any books or put on my school uniform. I went straight into the bathroom, had a wash, brushed my teeth

The weeks leading up to my escape from Binghamton, I was in constant fear. Every night I looked at an old Short Line bus ticket to Middletown that had expired long ago. As I listened to my mother and step-father Greg fight, I hoped that he would go have a beer and leave me and my siblings alone. Greg had a habit of taking is frustrations out on us. He would have us do different exercises. His favorite was to have my eight year old brother Mikey, five year old sister Ebbie, and I all stand with our