Listening to the gentle patter on the roof this morning made me remember times of old when I was a child and rain was such a big part of my life.

The walk to the school bus stop usually meant my shoes and socks were drenched by the time I got there.

The bus driver was a very kindly gruff man and this particular morning my feet shot out from under me as I was pushed roughly up the stairs of the bus by a boy who had occasionally bullied me when I got in his way which wasn’t very often as I avoided him like the plague.
I have always lived by the philosophy, “Tis better to be a live chicken than a dead rooster”.

My jaw hit the floor and my knees buckled on the steps.
The boy, in such a hurry to get out of the rain, had no patience to wait for me to pick myself up; he just walked over the top of me.
I was Ruby’s size in those days so it was a painful experience.

The bus driver dived out of his seat, grabbed the boy by his collar and carefully threw him off the bus.
No school for him that day and he was dealt with by his mother when the driver rang her after we’d arrived at school.
From that day on this boy left me alone.

I’m sure in todays world the bully’s rights would have ensured the bus driver be reprimanded.

So when I hear parents say “Kids can fight out their differences”, remember it only empowers the bully when everybody turns a blind eye.

The bus driver has passed on  but to this day I remember his act of kindness.