That sharp intake of air you heard a few months back was the sound of all the working parents of kids in Aitch’s preschool simultaneously realizing that, come fall, we would have to pick up our kindergarteners at 3:30 p.m. on the dot, instead of “any time before 5:30,” our current arrangement. (Frankly, I don’t know how parents who commute even manage to pick up their kids at 5:30. On days when I’m in the city and Husband can’t do the pick-up, I have to leave before 3:45 to be reasonably sure of making it, and even then I have three friends on speed-dial in case of traffic.)

At the kindergarten information session this winter, parents had only one question for the principal: “What are the details of the after-school program?” It wasn’t all worked out yet, the principal told us, but information would be forthcoming.

At the parent orientation session in the spring, there was only one question: “After-school program?” “Details to follow!”

At the kid orientation session, the same question was asked and answered: “The after-school people will be here next week for the kindergarten screening; ask them then!”

At the kindergarten screening, there was no information available. “We’ll let you know as soon as we hear something.”

Two weeks ago, I heard a rumor on the playground that the after-school program was going forward, but it was going to be held at the elementary school, so all the kindergarteners would be bused to it. I called the YWCA, which runs the after-school program, to get the details. I left several voicemails and finally got a call back.

“So,” I asked, “if you are busing my kindergartener from one school to another for the after-school program, who would be in charge of holding and administering his Epipen in case of an allergic reaction?”

“Well, I guess that would depend on which bus company is transporting the kids,” she said. (Keep in mind this is a mere two weeks before the start of school.) “We haven’t worked that out yet. If we’re contracting with a company to do it ourselves, then I don’t know what we would do. It’s never come up. If we are using the school district’s buses, then I guess we would use their policy.”

“Which is…?”

“I don’t know.”

I did a bit of digging (I’ll spare you the blow-by-blow of unreturned phone calls and unknowledgeable administrators) and managed to piece together the bits of something that might form a policy if anyone ever thought to gather them together as such; of course, no one has, because this is the first time in the history of Port City schools that any parent has expressed concern to anyone about their food-allergic child riding a school bus. Here it is:

  • There are no adults on the bus other than the bus driver.
  • Bus drivers are trained to recognize the signs of an allergic reaction in children…
  • And I’m sure they can do this effectively while driving the bus safely; however …
  • Bus drivers are not required to administer Epipens in the event of an incident; they just have to pull over and call 911. So…
  • The school district recommends that I “develop a relationship” with the bus driver, presumably because he or she will be more likely to damn the liability and inject my kid if we’re friendly. However…
  • It is illegal for the school to inform a bus driver that my child has a health issue. So…
  • If the bus driver with whom I’ve cultivated this close relationship gets has a bad lobster roll at the Park Lunch one day, requiring a substitute for the afternoon run, the driver will have no idea there’s an issue, and I’ll have no idea that there’s a different driver. But…
  • The school nurse reckons I can enlist the help of a mature older child to monitor Aitch for reactions. So, it’s all good.

So, imagine you’re my neighbor. “Hi, this is Denise, from down the street? I need a favor…can your seven-year-old sit with my son every day on the school bus and check him periodically for anaphylactic shock? Also, I’ll need to teach her how to administer epinephrine via an auto-injector. No, it’s very safe, even if she injects herself by accident. My husband did it and he lived to tell the tale. No, I promise I won’t sue her for malpractice if something goes wrong. Of course, I’ll need a backup if she’s going to be absent. How mature is your six-year-old?”