LETTER TO THE EDITOR: I love my job
The following is a letter to the editor submitted to the Bemidji Pioneer by a reader. It does not necessarily reflect the views of the Bemidji Pioneer. To submit a letter, email firstname.lastname@example.org or mail it to Bemidji Pioneer, P.O. Box 455, Bemidji, MN 56601.
I moved back to Bemidji in 2006 to take care of my aging mother. I needed a part-time job that fits my schedule and I would enjoy, since I was supposed to be retired.
I found what I think is the absolute best job I have ever had. I often explain it to friends as, “They give me a vehicle worth $100,000, they fill it with fuel, they find two or three dozen of the most pleasant children you could ever find to go along, they let us go joyriding in the woods and then they pay me for it.”
What sort of job do I have? I drive school bus 78 for Bemidji Area Schools.
I truly can’t think of anything I’d rather do every morning than go and pick up all “my kids.” It warms my heart to hear what those little ones say. When I pick them up, I’ll say, “Hi Finn.” Finn will say, “Hi Dave,” it’s so heartwarming.
As an older person, I’m 73, I feel so blessed to be surrounded by young people every day.
During the times when the bus has to sit for a while waiting for something, I get the chance to listen to the many things they want to tell me. It is simply wonderful.
As for driving the bus, the training I got was excellent. We get more training every year and can take additional driving courses from time to time. Except for parking, I’d really rather drive the bus than my car. You can see everything from way up there and they handle much better on bad roads than a car.
The support staff we have is also excellent. There is always help available on the two-way radio should we need it and when we get stuck the wonderful shop staff are right there with another bus and tow truck. If ever anything needs fixing on our buses, they do an excellent job and keep us going.
The supervisory staff is also excellent. They have that rare talent of when we goof up, which everyone does, telling us so without making us feel like a piece of dirt.
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