Unexpected Heroes Win Big on Band Trip

In the midst of crisis ordinary people become extraordinary heroes. People in roles we take for granted become invaluable. Life, friends and the kindness of strangers become life preservers to the weary and hope to the hurting. We see this in cases of domestic violence, the nation saw it after Hurricane Katrina and my daughter’s high school band saw it on Saturday.

At 6:00 am this past Saturday, the appointed hour had come. Three chartered busses from Lambeth Bus Lines in Powell stood ready to take my daughter’s high school band to the state competition. You could cut the eager anticipation with a knife.

My eldest daughter was home from college for the event. The competition was to run late. My husband had to work. After finals, the three of us planned to stay in Nashville for some fun "girl time". Chatting excitedly, we started our car and my eldest and I began following the busses.

Several miles down the road our excitement turned to dismay. We saw sparks shooting out from under the bus in front of us. We phoned Lambeth in hopes they would notify the driver. No answer. Then, my elder daughter remembered having the band director’s cell phone number from when she was in the band before she graduated this past spring. We made the call immediately.

Soon, bus 605 (aka bus 3) pulled to the front of the convoy. In another few miles all the busses pulled to the side of the dark, predawn interstate so the driver could look at the tire. An off ramp was just ahead but the drivers had decided not to wait to look at the problem. After 5 minutes we were back on the road.

We made it about 100 miles before the bus required professional help from the day's first hero.

Some people may not consider a mechanic to be a hero. We do. If you don’t you will change your mind when it’s a frosty November morning and you are on a band trip with 150 teenagers. A repair truck was as welcome a sight to us adults as breakfast was to the impatient kids. In the time it took to feed the rowdy bunch the mechanic worked his magic to replace the badly damaged tire. In just over an hour we were back on the road.

I shudder to think about that tire on a bus loaded with kids. Was the mechanic a hero? Definitely!

The busses roared into the competition just in time for the students to dress and offload the gear. My elder daughter and I helped unload for a few minutes before going to buy our admission into the gate and get seats. While the kids were getting ready we hoped to watch the performances of specific bands. We were not disappointed in the performances and sat spellbound enjoying the shows. The competitive bar was set high. Even though our kids tried their hardest they did not make finals.

My younger daughter and her friends were heartbroken. She wanted to commiserate with her friends and begged me to cancel our plans so she could head home on the bus with her friends. New band plans were to eat at a restaurant on the way home instead of leaving the kids to find their own meal at the competition. No way was I going to allow my child to get back on those busses. As a compromise I consented to following the buses to wherever the dinner stop might be if she would agree to come home with me.

While she and I were negotiating my other daughter approached looking worried. Many of the kids knew her from her years as a band kid in this program. One troubled student revealed to my daughter that she had begun cutting and had fresh looking marks to prove it. Through volunteering, my daughter knew she had to report the abuse but wanted to get more information before doing so. With urgency we searched for my daughter's chaperone and began looking for a band director to report to before heading out.

Cookeville, Tennessee is a small town about halfway between Knoxville and Nashville. It is home to outlets, Tennessee Tech and our dinner. It boasted of a popular restaurant with the distinction of being Motorcoach Certified and was surrounded by other restaurants. This cluster would ultimately be our destination.

Nightfall came before we arrived at the restaurant. The busses pulled onto the side of the road at the edge of parking lot across the street from the cluster of restaurants. I pulled into the parking lot of the Golden Corral just as kids started pouring forth from the busses and scattering to the various restaurants. My daughter was torn in deciding which set of friends to follow to which restaurant. In the end, she decided to stay with my older daughter, the debit card and myself at the Golden Corral.

We were just finishing our meal when word came that disaster had struck. As soon as we were told what happened the group I was with made tracks for the door. Three of our girls tried to cross the street to get back to the busses. Two of them made it across to safety. The third was hit by a pickup truck and was now lying on the street.

I was told that almost at the same instant as the girl hit the cold asphalt a woman with medical background was there checking her. She saw what happened and stepped forward. Other heroes (many of them students) offered jackets that were put to use to help keep their friend warm. The band director said she saw it happen from across the parking lot and began running toward her as did the assistant band director who called 911. Within minutes, several squad cars sectioned off the area and the first responders and ambulance arrived.

The directors simultaneously tried frantically to summon a chaperone and to get to the busses to find the student forms, and to reassure the injured child. I asked the band director what the protocol is that we were to follow. She replied, "There is no protocol. There is no plan. This hasn't happened before." The injured girl was talking and able to give the cell phone number for her family to the band director. The paramedics were sliding the backboard underneath the injured girl just as the right book of student forms was found.

The band director pleaded to get the students on the busses. Students went without hesitation to gather the other scattered students. Immobile with dazed confusion the chaperones gathered. Kids comforted one another or handled the crisis by making jokes. The two girls who were almost hit and who saw their friend struck by the pickup were sitting huddled together on the concrete in front of the busses. The police would want to speak with them soon. A lone male chaperone towered above the girls keeping a silent watch.

Slowly, ordinary people – adults and students – stepped forward and became heroes.

A student led the way to check on the driver of the pickup truck and his daughter. Neither were hurt. When the driver came to the hospital later the band director gave him a full run-down on the student’s health condition and began taking him back to meet the child to help reassure him when her parents arrived. He said then that the student who talked with him at the scene was “a very big help to him and to his daughter” and begged us to thank him for being a hero.

The two friends of the injured student got most of my attention at the scene. I recognized one as the girl who confided in my daughter earlier. She looked up at me and numbly repeated “My friend got hit.” The officer spoke with them. I work with domestic violence victims and often see both victims of trauma and police officers. Never have I witnessed a more compassionate officer. He allowed the girl to use his cell phone to phone home for a comforting voice. This allowed her to bravely tell what she saw. With courageous effort, the other young woman was able to tell what happened in between showing concern for their friend.

Straggling students slowly made their way to the busses. My daughters took the pictures you see.

Kids watched helplessly from the busses as their friend was loaded into the ambulance and taken to the hospital. Later we found out that she would be airlifted to a trauma center. Kids with cell phones called home and loaned their cell phones to others to call home each trying to find comfort in their own way.
The chaperones broke their huddle and joined the students on board the busses just prior to pulling out for home.

Through it all, the band director never left her injured student.

Extraordinary events call ordinary people to become extraordinary heroes. When dealing with a school crisis such as an accident or shooting, a situation of domestic violence we find value in people we take for granted or forget.

A police officer shows extra compassion and helps a friend of the victim find even more composure to tell the story. The child seen as a problem by some becomes a witness who gives vital information that could help doctors know what kinds of injuries to check for first in her friend. A teacher responsible for 150 lives never moves from the life that suddenly hangs in the balance. A young assistant director finds the ability to pull together a cacophony of students and chaperones and reforms them into a functioning group to get them home.

When people step forward during a crisis like this it makes you proud but even more it gives you hope and reassurance. When ordinary people transform to do extraordinary things under extraordinary stress we are all transformed – hopefully inspired - to do all the good we can, for all the people we can, as we can.
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The mechanic removes the dilapidated tire.


Two people in the middle of the street with the restaurant parking lot behind them. ---->





<-----My daughter stands under a light at the edge of the restaurant parking lot. The parking lot where the busses were is behind her.


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