In the fall of 2015, when concerns over the Rockford Housing Authority east side housing development referred to as “the New Towne project” were still dominating conversations in Rockford, Ron Clewer, CEO of the Rockford Housing Authority, visited my Auburn High School AP English classroom to talk about this new housing site. Mr. Clewer explained his philosophy that all people deserve to live in a nice home in safe surroundings. Because most of my students lived on the west side of Rockford, many of them in neighborhoods that aren’t the ideal in terms of upkeep and in which violent crime is the norm, they heartily agreed that it is not fair to segregate public housing tenants just because they are poor. What surprised the kids[…]

It’s been forever since I’ve blogged – lately because I’ve been drowning in grading, but at the time of the experiment, I just became too overwhelmed.  I quit early, in fact, after having “cheated” the majority of the time.  I just couldn’t spend that much time on a bus – my life became bus riding and little else other than work, which I was not doing well, I thought. I realize looking back that there are numerous challenges that regular bus riders face which I was able to avoid by simply not riding the bus when I didn’t want to.  For instance, I didn’t face “scary” people in the evenings; I just didn’t ride the bus then.  And the few times when I did, I still[…]

I didn’t want to drag myself out of bed at 5-something this morning, so I took a different bus, almost half an hour later. This is the bus I’d been avoiding, knowing how much busier it would be, and I encountered a whole new set of challenges riding this one: white men. First, at the bus stop, I encountered an apparent neighbor who engaged me in conversation. On the surface this doesn’t seem threatening, but from experience I’ve learned that most men who chat me up are flirting at minimum. This puts me in an awkward situation: continue to chat on the bus, possibly “inviting” an expectation that we will move beyond bus-acquaintanceship so that I have to lie to get out of giving him[…]

Almost missed the bus today because Bernard is off and the defensive white woman subbing for him was EARLY but justified her zooming by me a minute before she was even supposed to be at the prior time point by claiming that it’s him who is normally late. Whatever. Darrell has a sub, too. So for the first time in the morning, I’m just someone stuck riding the bus. No enthusiastic chatter. Just sitting here.  Stuck. On a rattling, bumpy, deathly quiet bus. And I’d sooooooo much rather be back home in bed. Ugh.

I’m still sitting on the couch after having submitted my last blog post.  I don’t want to have to scramble to make it to a bus on time.  I want to sit and enjoy the quiet and the Christmas lights and another cup of coffee!  I want to leave when I want to leave – not when I have to in order to meet a bus. I’m usually a pretty positive person.  But this bus stuff is making me grumpy. I am seriously in AWE of those who do this regularly because they have no other viable choice.  Their strength FAR exceeds mine!!

That’s what I started thinking less than two weeks into this experiment.  Riding the bus is EXHAUSTING.  I have no idea how people do it on a long-term basis.  And it has nothing to do with how nice the bus drivers are – because they are amazingly nice – it’s all about the amount of time it takes, and the challenges one encounters when relying on public transportation (or even her own feet, but I’ll save that for another blog). What used to be a twelve minute trip has turned into a forty-five minute commute – and that’s just one way!  So I could sleep for a half hour longer – grade thirty minutes more worth of papers – exercise for that recommended thirty minutes[…]

I wondered how long it would take before riding the bus made me cry, and just over a week ago I found out. Five days. Yep – a measly 5. I’d like to defend myself by blaming it on the blizzard of November 2015, but honestly it was my own fault.  I was determined to get to the New Towne community info meeting at Heartland on the 21st, but with 8 1/2″ of snow, I was unable to take the leisurely 45-minute stroll I had originally planned. I figured if I wore my hat, and my hood, and my snow boots – if I walked quickly to keep warm – if I took the Charles Street bus from the stop less than a mile south[…]

I almost feel like if I hadn’t taken the bus yesterday morning and again today, I would have missed out on something really special.  Like finding out that Bernard – my first driver – can’t read music at all, but if someone plays a couple notes of music, he can pick it up and play right along on the piano.  (He is obviously descended from the jazz improvisation greats of the mid-20th century.) His kids have the same talent, in fact. I would have missed out on learning that the debate Darrell and one of the bus dispatchers were in just before he drove me to Auburn was about racial profiling – and that when Darrell is included in white colleagues’ social gatherings, he is[…]

When I was preparing for my second day of bus riding, I seriously thought I had to be crazy; the trees were swaying madly in the wind, and I was certain I would be soaking wet and sporting Medusa-like hair by the time I arrived at school.  But it turns out my concerns were unfounded, thank goodness!  It was barely spitting rain during my four block walk, and the large umbrella I found in the back corner of the coat closet created the perfect barrier against the wind.  In fact, it was kind of nice to be out walking in the quiet of the early morning. So far so good! The bus arrived right on time, just before 6:30, and my wild waving definitely caught[…]