continued from previous page
THE KLAMATHTRINITY JOINT UNIFIED SCHOOL DISTRICT TRANSPORTATION CREW STANDS BY ITS BUSES, WHICH SERVE ABOUT 500 STUDENTS FROM NINE SCHOOLS AND COVER ABOUT 1000 MILES EACH DAY.
state’s cuts; but we have fiduciary responsibility to keep the district solvent.”
After Bus No. 6
crosses over the Mattole River, Stark guides it into a gravel clearing pocked with puddles to drop off a girl who transfers like clockwork to a waiting SUV. As the road ascends toward the last ridge, ridership dwindles to three boys and three girls. A girl curls up to return to “Paycheck,” a 1952 sci-fi collection by Philip K. Dick. The book begins: “All at once he was in motion. Around him smooth jets hummed. He was on a small private rocket cruiser, moving leisurely across the afternoon sky, between cities.” By the last crest toward the coast, more than hour into the ride, the group has quieted down before the descent toward Shelter Cove. Then, unprompted, one student muses on the journey and its length: “You get used to it.” Another adds, “I don’t even notice it after awhile.” They both talk of friends from town who can’t fathom it as a daily routine. At the Shelter Cove Fire Department, 33 miles from Miranda, Stark releases his last few charges into the gale-blown elements of a raging downpour. Parked parents wait behind windshields nearby.
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE KLAMATH-TRINITY JOINT UNIFIED SCHOOL DISTRICT
After a break to stretch, Stark settles back behind the wheel and heads the bus back up the hill, back across Bear Creek, toward a particularly hairy hairpin turn. “On the way down you can keep the bus in your lane,” he says. “But on the way up you have to look up the hill to make sure no one’s coming, then get in the ‘wrong’ lane and make the turn. And do it slowly.” At a crawl, he intensely eyeballs the road up ahead. It’s clear, so he takes over the curve’s outside, on-coming lane. A rain-swollen waterfall cascades next to the bus on the uphill bank; and, from around the bend up ahead, a truck comes slowly downhill in the bus’s temporary lane. Everyone’s paying attention, wheels roll into rightful places, and nothing goes wrong. Later, on a flat stretch near Briceland,
home & garden
service directory
continued on next page
Humboldt County Storm Clean Up Free Estimates bigfootmow@gmail.com
121-Excavator Rugged & Reliable (707) 826-8400 5065 Boyd Rd. • Arcata Monday - Friday 8am - 5pm
707-498-5302 7th & H Streets • Arcata M-F 8:30 - 5:30 • Sat 10 - 5 arcataprofloor.com
822-2838
18 NORTH COAST JOURNAL • THURSDAY, FEB. 9, 2012 • northcoastjournal.com
Stark pulls over one last time, letting a trailing car pass by. “I hate driving behind buses,” he says.
Along the Eel River, along the
Klamath River, and in rural districts throughout the state, people are getting behind school buses. After the abrupt detour of the triggered cuts, there’s no sign on the road ahead that offers much hope for next year. Communities worry that the impacts of major reductions in school transportation will create a downward spiral: As bus service declines, more students will be home-schooled, will transfer to other districts, or will simply miss school more often. Then average daily attendance (ADA) will decline and with it the lion’s share of a district’s funding; and, ultimately, like a fractured hillside subjected
to a succession of storms, education will erode further. In the drivers’ lounge of Southern Humboldt’s transportation yard, a couple of seasoned drivers in between runs take refuge from the roads and the rain. They talk of premature retirement, finding other jobs, a recent back-of-the-bus bullying incident, and how there used to be twice as many drivers and mechanics a generation ago. But mostly they wonder aloud about how families on the geographic and economic fringes are going to make it. Mary Hays, a Southern Humboldt bus driver for four years, says, “One mom told me, ‘I’m not smart enough to homeschool.’ But I’m most concerned about those families with no car, no money to ride the bus, no money to move, and no money to home-school.” Bobby Lahr has been driving the district’s buses since 1989. Before that, in the 1970s, he rode them to junior high and high school. He and his wife have no children of their own; but he’s come to know hundreds whom he’s watched over as they’ve grown up along his routes. “Somewhere along the line,” he says, “people have forgotten what this is all about. It’s about the kids. It’s about our future. They have a right to have at least as good an education as we had.” ●