My Bus Ride and the Children of Sandy Hook
The second graders on the bus were one year older than the 20 kids murdered in Sandy Hook. They were enjoying life in ways that Sandy Hook’s children will not. Why is life so unfair?
As the bus approached my stop this morning, I could see through the windows that lots of seats were empty. Great, I thought, I can read the paper on my way to work. But as I boarded the bus, I realized I was mistaken. Those apparently empty seats had tiny occupants, close to 40 little kids. Their joyous cacophony filled the bus with high-pitched musical chatter. From my vantage point–standing–I could see most of them. A few were reading, most were talking, and not one of them was manipulating an electronic device. One of the adults who was accompanying them told me they were on their way to MOMA, the Museum of Modern Art, which is in midtown Manhattan. They were second graders, and their excitement was palpable and contagious.
Whatever morning fatigue I felt vanished as I took in the scene and tried to imagine them at MOMA. What would they think of Monet’s water lilies and Picasso’s strange and wonderful art? How would they react when they came face to face with “The Scream,” Edvard Munch’s famous painting?
Thinking about “The Scream” transported me back to last week, when my wife (a school principal)
