Compassion

“He died, Mom.”

“Who died, honey?”

“That 14 year old, the one who was hit by a school bus on Saturday? He died. The (choral) concert tonight is canceled so everyone can have memorial service.”

Shocked noise from me.

“Mom, I am so worried about the bus driver! He’s the nicest man in the world and he’s in a depression about this. Tomorrow I am going to get my LA teacher (6th grade) to let us write cards to help him cope. It’s not his fault.”

On Saturday evening, the skateboarding boy in question was struck by a bus. The driver attempted to pass the ninth grader and two of his friends, but for reasons that remain unclear, hit the boy (who was not wearing a helmet) with the rear view mirror. The boy was rushed to the local hospital and then air lifted to the regional children’s hospital, where he died yesterday afternoon. The bus driver, driving an empty bus, was returning from a regional game when he encountered the boy on the windy road by the high school.

Unfortunately, this school district has had its share of tremendous tragedies, from the deaths two years ago of both the Superintendent and the principal (within two weeks of one another), to now three student deaths.

Boo’s concern for the driver of the bus and her grappling for meaning in all this underscores the real confusion in the community about what really happened - h0w this child, skateboarding with his friends, could be struck by a school bus. Questions remain as to the speed of the bus, if the driver was under any influence and how far the driver went into the left lane to avoid the boys. All we do know is the the driver blames himself and has holed himself in his house while the investigation continues on this tragedy.

Boo’ s compassion for the driver and her dogged conviction that he was not to blame makes me want to hug her for her lovely, caring nature. But it isn’t that simple, I explained to her. No one know what really happened - witnesses are still being sought for their testimony - but regardless, there is a community in pain at the moment. I cannot begin to fathom what the boy’s family is feeling and my heart goes out to them. My heart also goes out to the 61 year old driver, a favorite of my children, and the burden he must bear. This is a horrendous thing to live with, whatever the outcome of the investigation.

Teachers and staff at the high school are being asked to be compassionate about the stress students are feeling, and a grief counselor is on hand. I spoke to a teacher friend at the high school (I was in the same internship program with her there last year) and she summed up the atmosphere in the normally bustling halls: “It was virtually silent - all I heard were birds out the window.” She described the pervasive sadness and told me that for her freshmen, this tragedy represents the first real death experience of a contemporary any of them have had. A teacher must necessarily become a guide into that realm of human existence; my friend has been holding some of her students as they cried for their friend. I have not yet had this experience, but I know I very well may.

Boo is very shaken by all this and although we didn’t go to the memorial tonight, she wants to send a card to both the family of the boy who died, and to the bus driver.

I want to hold her and Monkeyface for a long time.