Drivers Education

How on earth did he make it past the 3rd grade? I looked at him blankly; he looked back, even more blankly. I went through the same explanation again. Then later, again.
I am an educator, but not a well respected one. Driver’s education. Everyone needs it, but it is not considered to be something that “molds minds” or “builds character” it is simply a life skill. On par with coloring in the lines, and making Thanksgiving turkeys from the outline of your hand.
I am also the youngest drivers education instructor I have ever heard of. I’m 26. My job is one that takes a lot of ridicule, but the focus is generally on the instructor and not the actual course itself. I remember my drivers Ed. Teacher, W.R. Evers.
“I’m looking here, here, here, here, and here” he said to me pointing in various directions. “You must know what is going on at all times!”
He taught all my friends how to drive, and we all had an impression of him, mine was the best. I was often put on the spot to imitate our vehicular master, and was happy to do so, but had I known I would follow in his footsteps, I certainly would not have found the humor in it.
“I have the equivalent of 10 college degrees” W.R. said to me once.
“How many do you actually have?” I quipped back.
“None” he said.
Well, neither do I.
I go out at night with other people my age, and their lives seem so much more exciting, there is an upward optimism, a carrot dangling in front of their young lifeline. I have no carrot. There is nowhere to go in the field of Drivers education. What I am doing now will be what I am doing in 30 years, and the pay will be about the same.
I raced go carts growing up, I always loved to drive, and I had aspirations of being a racecar driver. At 19 I was there. I had a crew, and was making money in a small midwestern circuit. But, almost as soon as my career started, it was wrecked into turn 4 at Stevenson’s expressway. A broken car, a broken leg, and no money to fix either, meant a broken career. I dropped from #2 on the Heart of America circuit to unranked in less than a month. The two sponsors I had quit, and my crew split to find work with other drivers. I recovered, at least physically, but I am left with hospital bills along with other life payments. I am become so far removed from my dream.
I pulled into the parking lot of Edgerton High School and parked. I take a deep breath. One more student left today. I turn and look at the passenger side window and see a skinny girl with a blonde ponytail walking my way. Her book bag bulges out from the sides of her tiny frame, she looks ready for a trek through the Andes.
Carrie Hass, my 4:30. This bitch is going to kill us both.