Leadership Lessons from the School Bus: What Was Your First Encounter with a Bad (or Great) Leader? Share Your Stories!
- Mary Beth Crawford
- Oct 4, 2024
- 5 min read
Updated: Oct 7, 2024
The Unexpected Leadership Classroom
I’ve been thinking a lot about leadership development lately. How do we actually learn to lead? Is it something we’re born with, or is it a skill we pick up along the way? Whatever the mix of nature and nurture, one thing’s for sure: the unexpected moments in life often leave the deepest mark on how we understand leadership.
Take, for example, one childhood memory that stands out vividly for me. It was my first real lesson in courage, speaking up, and standing my ground in the face of authority—all served with a side of unforgettable terror in the principal's office. That brief encounter provided longer-lasting leadership lessons than I could’ve ever anticipated.
"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear." – Mark Twain
Picture it
The year was 1970-something. A second grader (me), bouncing along on a rattletrap yellow school bus. Faux-leather seats that stuck to your legs like Velcro, floors that were always inexplicably sticky. It was an hour-long ride to elementary school, and life was simple: metal lunchboxes, juice-filled Holly Hobby thermoses, crayons, and endless chatter to pass the time. The bus driver described me as "effervescent," which I learned was adult code for "this kid never stops talking." But honestly, bubbly and chatty were my survival tactics for that long, bumpy ride.
The Bully
Until… Bus Patrol-Pants came along. Fifth grade. Bully. Orange sash. Shiny badge. Swollen ego. She wore her little authority like a crown and ruled the bus like a pint-sized dictator. Every. Single. Day. The moment I stepped onto the bus, she’d silence me—for the entire hour—threatening eternal detention if I even thought about speaking.
What the??? This wasn’t just a bus ride anymore—it was medieval torture with a side of sticky seats.
It didn’t take long to figure out that the bully didn’t care about me. I was just target practice for her beef with my older brother, a fellow fifth-grader. Classic abuse of power. And since my momma didn’t raise no wallflower, I wasn’t about to stand for it.
The Rise of the Rebel
After a week of enduring this medieval bus-silencing, I’d had enough. I tried reasoning with her, deploying my best second-grade diplomacy (“Excuse me, but you’re being super mean, and I don’t appreciate it.”). Shockingly, this didn’t work. So, like any independent 7-year-old with a cause, I escalated to the highest authority: the school principal.
The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword (or so I thought)
Armed with a No. 2 pencil and wide-lined paper, I sat at the kitchen table and wrote a letter that detailed the egregious power abuse happening on Bus 12. In a stroke of strategic brilliance (or so I thought), I signed it "Anonymous" but added “Bus 12” because, you know, that was critical evidence.
I should’ve been braver and signed my name. But hey, I was 7. How could I have predicted how the principal would interpret my "signature"? (Foreshadowing).
My plan was simple: drop the letter on the principal's desk the next day, and justice would prevail. The following morning, my mom waved me off proudly with a thumbs-up as I boarded the bus.
The Big Backfire
The Big Backfire
Victory was mine! Or so I thought. The principal, with Sherlock Holmes-like precision, immediately sniffed out "Anonymous" (thanks to my atrocious handwriting). I was summoned to her office, my stomach flipping like an Olympic gymnast, and before I knew it, I was perched on a chair that swallowed me whole, feet dangling helplessly above the floor, staring into the cold, unforgiving eyes of authority.
But instead of addressing the bullying, I was met with a booming reprimand for the "audacity" of speaking on behalf of the entire bus (which, for the record, I absolutely was not). The lecture that followed was nothing short of a verbal smackdown—a brutal, dismantling tirade that left 7-year-old me squirming like a bug under a magnifying glass. By the time I was sent back to class, tears were streaming down my cheeks, and I felt utterly crushed.
It was clear to me then—Bus Patrol-Pants must have learned her leadership style straight from the principal herself! This wasn’t just a backfire, it was an all-out crash-and-burn. Definitely not the ending I had envisioned for my first solo act of bravery.
But don’t count out this little blonde leader-in-the-making just yet. A quick SOS to my mom’s best friend, Miss Jackie—the first-grade teacher—triggered an emergency response. One phone call and my mom swooped in like a superhero in a station wagon.
Enter Mama Bear
Fast forward to the front-office confrontation that was less Star Wars and more Desperate Housewives, my mom waging verbal warfare against a startled principal who clearly missed the memo: never dismiss the voice of a diminutive defender of justice—especially when backed by mom powers.
The Turnaround
Before long, I was called back to the principal’s den, but this time, the atmosphere was completely different. The principal was quick to offer profuse apologies for silencing my voice. Under my mom’s spirited guidance, the principal understood that I wasn’t trying to represent the entire bus—I was simply standing up for myself and identifying my bus. In the end, I wasn’t asking for much—just a chance to be heard.
Leadership Lessons Learned
From that first trip to the principal's office, I learned an unforgettable lesson about the difference between intent (I was just trying to indicate which bus I rode on) and impact (it appeared to her like I’d declared myself spokesperson for the entire bus). Was the lesson painfully administered? Absolutely. But was it valuable in the long run? Without a doubt.
I also learned to never give up – even when the odds seem against you. Of course, having someone in your corner can make all the difference in challenging times.
On that note, I’m fairly certain the principal walked away with a lesson or two herself—like the importance of listening carefully to even junior justice-seekers and never underestimating the power of a wee warrior backed by a mom wielding full artillery.
But the real question remained: Did my leadership efforts pay off? Could I finally speak on the bus?
Well… the bus patrol bully lost her sash, and I got my right to speak restored. Victory!
Key Leadership Lessons from That Day:
Speaking up takes courage – Keep standing up, even if your approach isn’t perfect (and be prepared to own intent versus impact). Pro tip: anonymous feedback usually isn't the best plan.
Asking for help isn’t a weakness. Sometimes, you need reinforcements. I always tell my team that I’d rather they ask for help and get it right than struggle in silence and miss the mark. And, while I try not to attend every argument I’m invited to, trust me—if the help you need is with a bully in authority, I’ll have your back any day, all day long.
No one’s a perfect leader. Great leaders know this and work to improve every day. I’d like to think the principal, the bus patrol, and I all grew in our leadership journey as a result of this experience.
Oh, and a fun postscript: Twenty years later, I ran into the principal at a ski lodge. I strode right up and introduced myself: "Mary Beth. Bus 12." The look of recognition on her face was priceless.
Now, who wants to hear about the time I organized a walkout over tater tots?
Want to level up your team's leadership? Let's connect and build a stronger, more collaborative work environment!