Look, as a 3rd grader I had a very simple and easy life. So on that intensely hot day at school in California, all I wanted was to go home and chill ` on the couch. Luckily, school ended early that day.

Waiting in line for the bus outside was dreadful because of the heat, but thankfully that lasted for only a few minutes before I stepped onto the yellow vehicle. That day, we had a substitute driver, which didn’t surprise me because my real busdriver was often absent, but this busdriver was different.

Since I have no idea about the identity of this man, I'll make one up for him.

Okay, after a quick google search of “Old Man Names,” I’ve found Albert would be a suitable name for him. Here's Alberts story: Albert was a tired, laid back old African American man who had moved West from New England to start a new life as a substitute bus driver in California. Do I know if any of this is true? No. But is there a chance that it could be true? Possibly.

My friend Arianna had sat next to me that day, and her younger sister sat in front of us. The bus was extremely loud but as the engine started everyone quieted down.

Everything was normal until after the kids at the first stop were dropped off. The bus didn’t move for a few minutes. One kid with red hair, and freckles sprinkled all over his face called out, “Start driving! I wanna go home! ” in the most obnoxious voice ever. And I guess this actually convinced the bus driver to start driving again. He took a lot of twists and turns until we came to the town center, which was confusing because we lived no way near it. That's when I figured out that this guy had no clue where he was taking us.

To be honest, I wasn’t mad at Albert. I felt a bit sorry for him because he was clearly stressed out since he had a whole bus of children he had to take home. But Arianna wasn't feeling the same way. She was scared. And somehow that made me feel a bit scared too. After 20 minutes of having Albert drive us cluelessly I decided to take charge, and help Albert get us home. But another kid got to him before me. It was the red headed boy. He walked up the bus while it was still in motion, and told Albert he could give him the directions. And surprisingly, Albert listened.

But after a few turns, it was pretty clear that red head didn't know his left from his right. And at this point everyone was walking up and down the bus because Albert didn't seem to care. So, I went up to the redhead and told him, “You clearly never learned what the difference between left and right are so I’ll help instead.” He shrugged and then answered, “Yeah, okay, suit yourself.” He went back to his seat looking a bit embarrassed.

After that, I successfully directed the driver to the next stop, by telling him where to turn at each traffic light. This was Arianna’s stop, so when she got off I waved her goodbye. Once the rest of the kids at that stop got off, a crusty gray pulled up behind us. A lady, who looked like she was in her 40’s, came out of the car and walked to our bus. She introduced herself as a previous substitute driver and said she would help with getting us to our bus stops by having Albert just follow her car. Albert was on board with this idea.

But as soon as we hit the main road, she took a right, which was the opposite direction of the next stop. That’s when the kids on the bus, including me, started yelling, “Wrong way! Turn Left!” And for some reason Albert followed the words of a bunch of elementary schoolers, and turned left. At that point I realized that I wasn't the only kid who knew the way home. Everyone else knew it was a left turn. They were all just too scared to help out the driver before. But it wasn’t until later I realized why. They were afraid of helping out after watching the red headed boy give Albert the wrong directions, so they weren't certain they could be helpfull. But that wasn't how I felt. I knew that even if I wasn’t sure I could be helpful, it would be worth trying when no one else wouldn’t.

Now since they all had the confidence to help out, everyone helped give the bus driver directions. Everytime we hit a stoplight you would hear us yelling which way to turn. And then finally, we reached my bus stop, the last one. I looked out the window, proud of me and the other kids. I could see my dad and the parents waiting outside, worried. We came an hour later than usual, so of course they were worried. And once we came out, I explained everything to my dad. I could see from his smile that he was proud of me, for finding my way back home.