What does it mean to parent someone else’s child?

John got on the bus in front of me.  He put his bus ticket in the slot thing and then….

John looked at the bus driver, a nice middle-aged African-American man, and with an I’m too cool to care attitude made a sharp nod of his head upward and said “Sup, Bro.” After which he promptly flopped onto the empty bench of seats, sprawling himself out over at least 3 of those seats that must be vacated if seniors or people with disabilities board.

Now, by this point John had been in our home for about 2 1/2 weeks so I had grown familiar with his desperate attempts to come across as cool and tough enough for the teen-age boys in his program because he was constantly trying on different attitudes to figure out what was really cool.  This wasn’t it.  But it was familiar enough not to phase me.

For about 2 seconds.

I quickly heard.  “Oh NO.  Young man, you get back here.  You come apologize.  That is not OK.  Come here!”  This man was pissed.  And John was just sitting on that bench, stone still and eyes wide, looking at me.

Thoughts in my head:  “Oh shit.  What do I do?  What do I do?  What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!?  Am I going to get kicked off the bus?  I’ve never been kicked off of a bus.  What do I do?”

Out loud I say “John, come back here and apologize”  Seems to me, that if that’s what the driver wants, then that’s what I should do.

John shuffles the four feet over to me and eyes down to the floor barely manages to mumble a “sorry.”  To which the driver responds “You can not say that.”

John goes back and sits down.  The driver glares at me while I put in my ticket and go to sit next to John.  No one else on the bus is talking.

I honestly have no memory of the next few minutes but somehow either John or I managed to start a conversation.

John:  “I was just trying to say hello.”

Me:  “I know you were, but that’s not an appropriate way to say hello.”

John:  “I was just trying to be nice.”

Me:  “Well, that’s an ok way to say hello to your friend, but he’s a grown man and he deserves to be treated with more respect.  He’s not one of your friends.  If you want to be nice you could say ‘hello’ or ‘good afternoon’ or…”

John interrupts me  “I don’t say things like good afternoon.  It’s not me.”

Me:  “Well, then you could just smile.  A smile is always nice.”

We go back to sitting silently for another 3 minutes.

Me:  “Now, when we get off the bus I want you to apologize to the driver.”

John:  “Why?”

Me:  “Because it shows respect for who he is and the work he does.”

John: “What work?”

Thoughts in my head:  “Seriously kid!  Everyone can still hear you.”

Me:  “Well, He is driving all of these people to their destination so that we don’t have to drive.  Which is nice for us because driving is a lot of responsibility and this is much easier.  And he is responsible for keeping the bus on time, and making sure that while we ride we all stay safe and that he is paying attention to everything going on around us so that everyone else on the road is able to be safe too.  And I think getting home safely is pretty important, don’t you?”

John:  “I guess.”  he pauses,  “If I don’t, will there be consequences?”

Me:  “There are always consequences for being disrespectful in our house.”

Thoughts in my head:  “Please apologize.  please, please, please.  I don’t have any damn clue what a natural consequence for not apologizing to a bus driver is, but I know its important that you do this.  So just do it.  Please.

I pull the yellow cord and the stop requested sign lights up.  John jumps up from his seat with the exuberance only a 12-year-old boy can display.  The bus slows down as we get close to our stop and John goes tripping over the yellow Do-not-stand-in-front-of-this-line line and crashes into the rail up against the windshield.

Thoughts in my head:  “Oh no.”

John:  “Thank you for getting us home.”

Me:  “Thank you.”

Driver:  “You have a good night now.”

I turn around to face him and smile as I walk away.  I am a good five feet from the bus by now.

Driver: “It starts at home!  It starts at home.  Have a good night!”

Me:  “It sure does.  You too.”  I wave.

We walk a bit.

Me:  “John, I’m proud of you for saying thank you.  That was a good choice.”

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