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School was over and I was both mentally and physically tired, I sa t at the very front of the bus because of 1 to get home.Sitting at the front makes you 2 out like a shiny coin in a pile of dull pennies. Janie,the driver, tries to break the uncomfortable atmosphere by striking the match of 3 . I try to mind my manners and 4 listen, but usually I am too busy thinking about my day.On this day, however, her conver  sation was worth listening to."My father's sick," she said to no one in 5 .I could see the anxiety and fear in her eyes.With a sudden change of attitude and interest, I asked, "What's wrong with him?" With her eyes wet and her voice tight from 6 the tears, she responded, "Heart trouble." Her eyes 7 as she continued."I've already lost my mum, so I don't think I can 8 losing him." I couldn't respond.I was 9 .My heart ached for her.I sat on the old, smelly seat thinking of the great 10 my own mother was thrown into when my father died. I saw how hard it was, and still is, for her.I wouldn't like anyone to go through that.Suddenly I realized Janie wasn't only a bus driver.That was just her job.She had a w  hole world of family and concerns too. I had never thought of her as anything but a 11 .I suddenly felt very 12 .I realized I had only thought of people as 13 as what their purposes were in my life.I paid no attention to Janie because she was a bus driver.1 had judged her by her job and regarded her as unimportant. For all I know, I'm just another person in someone else's world, and may not even be important. I should not have been so selfish and self-centered.Everyone 14 a place to go to, people to see and appointments to 15 .Understanding people is an art. | ||||
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