Every morning, six-year-old Calvin raced to the bus, waving his toy dinosaur. But over time, his joy faded. Smiles disappeared, stomachaches began, and his colorful drawings turned into scribbles or blank pages.
I assumed it was a phase—until one morning, I walked him to the bus and heard a cruel comment from a kid in the back. Calvin pulled his hat low and wiped away a tear. The bus didn’t move. Miss Carmen, the driver, reached out her hand. Calvin took it and clung to her.