Friday at about 3 p.m. I got word that all the yellow school buses in New York might strike. A parent coordinator emailed me the letter from the NYC Department of Education:
“We are writing to inform you of the strong possibility of an immediate system-wide, and in our view, illegal, strike by our bus drivers’ union that could impact yellow bus service for more than 152,000 students citywide.” As usual with strikes that could affect me, I don’t understand the thorniest issue. It seems to have something to do with bids.
“Any idea when this could take effect?” one parent wrote. “This is a huge problem for us as my son (with an IEP) travels over an hour each way to/from school by bus.”
“Someone just called from my son’s school and said they are very concerned that it might take place within the hour,” wrote another parent at about quarter to two Friday afternoon.
I’ve been a special needs dad for almost a decade and a half, and “within the hour” wouldn’t have surprised me at all. I called Alex’s bus company about 3 on Friday afternoon. They didn’t answer; they’ve answered all year.
Both sides slung mud into the weekend. The mayor of New York – a rich man who’s recently caught flak for his orders to the police regarding Occupy Wall Street – held a press conference Friday afternoon and said Metrocards for mass-transit rides to and from school would be available to parents in the amount of, said the mayor, “If I remember correctly, four dollars and fifty cents.”
(If I remember correctly!? If I depended on votes past or future from a squeezed public, this is one number I’d always keep in mind. Perhaps the comment helps explain how we wind up with these strikes in the first place.)
The DOE regrets “the possibility of what could be a major disturbance in the lives of students and their families.” If by that they mean Alex might be home all day, I agree.
He won’t be. One advantage of living in Manhattan is that mass-transit is what it should be in most of our cities, and I’ll take him and bring him home (one disadvantage of being 50 next month and having worked in publishing being that I’m now unemployed).
What’s Alex going to feel if a bus doesn’t show up on Monday morning? On the iPad, he watches a “Sesame Street” segment that has a school bus over and over. He has always loved school buses, grabbing the little ones in toy stores.
Alex doesn’t know strikes. (“Can you spell ‘strike’?” I’ll ask him on Friday evening. “Can you spell ‘strike’?” he’ll reply.) The bus brings him home on Friday around 4, just like normal, and I mean to ask if they’ll be there on Monday? Except an ambulance is blaring right behind the bus. The bus pulls out quickly and the ambulance goes just halfway down the street and stops. Just halfway. The little guy sure gets squeezed in this world.