Photo by Nikola Pejanovic
Last week I rode on the school bus with a bunch of Swedish 7—12-year-olds every day.
Monday: I get on the bus at dawn. A pair of twin brothers start fighting and the driver has to stop the bus not once, but twice.
Vice: What do you think of the school bus?
My: I hate it. I just want to get home.
Joakim: It’s the time when you can really talk to your friends and fight with them.
Tuesday: The traumas start to unravel when 10-year-old Simon tells me, “Once a few years ago the bus crashed. The road was icy, and suddenly the whole damn bus lay on its side in the ditch. There was glass and blood and kids panicking and running into the woods.”
Robin is the womaniser on the bus. He’s got long hair and dark eyes. He plays the guitar. Nice.
Wednesday: Homework doesn’t seem to exist any more. Neither do subjects. Turns out school is all about projects nowadays, and the kids get stressed out because they don’t know what the hell they’re doing.
What are you doing after school today?
Pelle: I am going home to my Xbox. I bought a new game yesterday. You’re supposed to wreck cars to win.
He’s sharing headphones with Fredrik, who brought his mp3 player today.
Thursday: I try to find out more about the romantic antics on the bus. All the girls are in love with Robin, who is in love with his guitar and Bruce Springsteen.
Simon, Robin’s brother: This week is my birthday. I’m going to get a guitar from Spain and my brother is teaching me. And I collect Warhammers. It’s like an army game. I have the dark elves and a lizard with five heads.
Today the bus is full of plastic bags full of P.E. clothes. One girl has brought a CD with hip-hop that she downloaded. The driver puts it on.
Friday: Friday is uncomfortable. It’s Simon’s birthday party tonight. There will be a sleep over and some are invited, others are not. There’s gossiping and tension.
What’s going to happen this weekend?
Sara: I’m invited to the sleep over, but my sleeping bag is too small. I have to borrow my sister’s. I hope Robin will be there.
ANNA SAHLÉN
