Shirley Harrell stops her school bus at the top of an ice-covered hill on North 900 Road in southwest Douglas County. From where she sits, the road looks like a ski jump on gravel. She shoves the big floor shift into low, eases out the clutch and the bus' yellow nose rolls downward, slowly picking up speed. Seconds later the bus is safely at the bottom without so much as a wobble.
"I've been thinking about that hill since we were loading up at school," she sighs. "Now, all we have to do is make it back up."
Shirley Harrell says goodbye to her last passenger of the day, Delaney Dieker, 8, in front of her house in Clinton. Harrell began her 22-mile route with 50 passengers. She has driven a school bus for 37 years, transporting students to and from Wakarusa Valley School.
Inside the bus there is no tension in the air, only the sweet smell of bubble gum and the sounds of lots of little voices, all talking at once.
The young passengers obviously have confidence in their driver, the same trust some of their parents and older brothers and sisters had back when they rode with Harrell. No rookie, she's been driving a bus to and from Wakarusa Valley School for 37 years.
She's 72 years old.
First job
Harrell was offered her first driving job in 1962. She recalls being interested in the position but worried because she had never driven a bus.
"R.W. Harmon, the bus company's owner, had seen me driving a grain truck and said if I could do that I could drive a bus. I didn't even get to practice in the parking lot," she said, laughing.
She didn't ease into her career. Her first bus carried 47 passengers. She now drives for Laidlaw Transit Inc., her third bus company.
Harrell, a farm wife and mother of four, is a believer in having busy hands. Hers were full of cattle for a long time.
Nearing the end of their second bus ride of the day, Patrick Johnson, 12, left, Jake Greenfield, 12, foreground, and Coltin Johnson, 10, rear, watch the passing snowscape on their way home from school.
"It seems crazy to look back on it now, but I used to get up at 4 a.m. and milk 40 head of big old Holsteins before I drove my bus route. Then I'd drive the children home from school, go back home and milk those 40 head again," she said.
Harrell would fix dinner for the family, take care of motherly duties and was in bed at 10 p.m.
She milked the cows for 50 years while her husband, Alvin, did the outside chores. They got out of the dairy business five years ago, when she was 67.
Wedding cakes, dogs
"I also got into the wedding cake business. Baked them, decorated them and delivered them," she said. "I wasn't going to trust anybody else to haul them after all that work. Used to do three to five a week. It was a word-of-mouth deal."
She also runs a dog kennel. Her current inventory consists of about 35 small terriers.
"I sell puppies, and I don't know why in the world I thought I didn't have enough to do," she said, shaking her head.
Portions of Douglas County's North 900 Road were covered with ice and snow when Shirley Harrell's bus traversed the hills from both directions twice a day a few weeks ago. "I haven't had an accident on these country roads, but over the years I've sure gotten hung up in the mud and ended up in a ditch or two," Harrell said.
It was still dark on a recent Thursday when Harrell, stepping gingerly in her white sneakers, made her way down the icy path to the 54-passenger International diesel-powered bus parked in front of her house. This was her second time out that morning. She'd been out at 6:35 a.m. to start the engine so the heater would be fired up for her passengers.
"When it's real cold, I get out earlier than that."
22-mile route
Jared Johanning, 15, was her first passenger on this day.
It was the first of two bus rides for Johanning. He would change buses at Wakarusa Valley School and continue to South Junior High.
"Shirley's great," the veteran passenger said. "She really knows what's she's doing."
"I really prefer the children call me Shirley," Harrell said, "some call me 'grandma,' but my grandchildren I haul get a little upset when they hear that."
She picked up the Clark children, and then Jesse and Emily Coheney, followed by Stephanie and Jeremy Gaines.
"I drove Stephanie and Jeremy's father, Jon, when he was a youngster," Harrell said proudly as she backed the bus down the snowy driveway and onto the cleared blacktop. "They're a nice family."
Harrell's morning route is 22 miles long with 20 stops. She picks up her first passenger at 6:45 a.m. and deposits her entire collection at Wakarusa Valley School by 7:45 a.m.
Shirley Harrell has a few words with her Wakarusa Valley School-bound passengers before they head for a day of classes. "I don't actually do a head count," she says, "You just know when everybody is there."
"The students aren't supposed to be on the bus for more than one hour, and I usually make it on time."
Wakarusa Valley Principal Linda Rogers has nice things to say about Harrell.
"Shirley is very dependable, has a great safety record and is always on time."
Over a cup of coffee in Harrell's kitchen after her morning run, Harrell talks about her 37 years in the driver's seat of a school bus.
"Things have changed over the years, but kids are always going to be kids. It used to be when a youngster was really acting up you could march up the aisle, grab him by the collar (she grabbed a handful of her sweatshirt to demonstrate the technique), pull him out of his seat and say, 'We won't be doing that anymore, will we?'"
Dalton Welsh, 8, waited for Shirley Harrell's bus in the warmth of the family car at the end of his driveway.
"Nowadays you can't touch a child. You file an incident report and turn it in to the principal's office," she said.
When it's enough
Harrell said sometimes she calls a student's parents, but rarely has problems she can't handle on the spot. Just last month she filed her very first "incident report."
"I had tried other ways with no success, and I just needed to get the youngster's attention."
There are eight mirrors on Harrell's bus. When she's driving or at a stop to drop off a child her eyes move from mirror to mirror, like a visual dot-to-dot game. When youngsters "de-bus," her eyes follow their feet down the steps and on to the roadway and then back to her mirrors.
Married for 53 years, Shirley and Alvin Harrell talk over their day after Shirley returned from her first round of delivering students.
But, when the noise level reaches that "enough-is-enough level" she uses the long mirror above her head to spot the loudmouth seat-changers and waits until the next stop to deliver her message.
With her back to the students and her eyes on the mirror, both her hands shoot into the air like someone has a gun to her back. In a firm voice she calls the culprits by name, tells them to sit down in their seats and "please keep their voices down, please."
The sound level drops and stays there ... for several miles, anyway.
'Our bus family'
"I tell my kids at the beginning of the year that this is our bus family and I expect us to get along," she said solemnly.
In her 37 years, and after 249,600 bus-route miles, she has taken one sick day.
"When you take a job it's your responsibility to be there," she said.
It's a long walk from the house to the bus for Jesse Coheney, 12, and the going gets slower when the driveway is covered with snow. He and his sister Emily, 10, ride Shirley Harrell's bus to school.
She'd like to drive for three more years, she said, as long as she stays in good health.
"I'm in pretty good hands right now," she said, smiling. "One of my old bus riders, Elaine Kennedy, is my physician. I never dreamed that she'd become a doctor when she was riding my bus."
Harrell has a philosophy about her position in life.
"I really love children, and I know that being around them helps make me feel younger and lets me keep up with the times."
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