For decades, Joyce Ivy has helped Cairo’s children get to school safely. As manager of Robinson Bus Company, she supervises four drivers, six monitors, and five buses—one a spare she keeps in top shape. She even drives a route herself.

Her work ethic runs in the family. Joyce’s mother, Doloris Ivy, managed the same company before her. “I started as a monitor in the 1980s,” Joyce recalls. “Mom’s health started failing, so I helped—picking up mail, getting route sheets ready.” Joyce also went out at 5:30 am to clear snow off and to start the buses when it was cold. The drivers were older, and “I didn’t want them out there in the snow.”

Over time, she took on more until the company asked her to become a manager. “I’ve been here ever since,” she says. “Robinson has always treated us like family.” She credits owners David, Joyce, Scott, and Eric Robinson for their commitment to Cairo’s schools.

Joyce has built more than a career; she’s built a life rooted in service and community. Along with managing transportation, she also coaches volleyball—head coach for the junior high girls and assistant coach for the high school team.

“I’ve always loved volleyball,” she says. “I had a chance to play for Shawnee Community College after high school, but I was pregnant, so I didn’t go. Years later, when I heard Cairo was starting a volleyball program, I asked about it. Next thing I knew, I was coaching.” That was eleven years ago, and she’s been on the court ever since.

What she loves most isn’t winning but watching her players grow. “I love being around the kids,” she says. “Seeing their faces light up, giving them hugs even when they lose. I tell them it’s not always about winning—it’s about having fun, being respectful, and loving what you do.”

Her players never forget her. “Some still call me years later,” she says, smiling. “It reminds me I did something right.”

Joyce was raised in Cairo and graduated from Cairo High School in 1983. She raised two sons here, both graduates—one now in Dallas, the other working locally. She also has five grandchildren who keep her smiling. “They’re my world,” she says.

Her love for Cairo runs deep, and so does her compassion. Around the holidays, she leads small drives through her bus team. “I tell my drivers to bring in change,” she says. “Then we buy clothes or toys for kids who need them. If I see a student without socks or gloves, we take care of it.”

Still, Joyce’s story is also one of strength through loss. In 2014, she lost her nephew, Myron Jordan, a sophomore at Cairo High School and manager of her volleyball team. “He was more like my son than my nephew,” she says quietly. “Every year around Thanksgiving, it’s hard. I still see him in the hallways. The kids loved him, and the school showed us so much love.”

Out of that pain came a phrase she still says to every student: “You’ll be strong.” It’s what she tells her players when they struggle and what she tells herself on the tough days. “Myron used to hear me say it all the time,” she says. “Now I keep saying it—for him and for me.”

Joyce also lost her dear friend and coworker, Corey Medlock, who managed the bus company for Meridian. “He was my best friend,” she says softly. “We drove the Beta Club to Florida together, spent two weeks on the road. Then just a few weeks later, he died in an accident. That one hit me hard.”

Even so, Joyce keeps going—for her family, her students, and the memory of those she’s loved. “As long as I can, I’ll keep working,” she says. “I get bored on weekends when I don’t see the kids or my drivers. This job gives me purpose.”

Joyce credits one of her high school mentors, Kelly Shepherd, for inspiring her to give back. “Coach Shepherd took me under her wing,” she says. “She knew I didn’t have much and made sure I was included. I’ll always remember that kindness.”

Through every mile, every game, and every small act of generosity, Joyce Ivy continues the legacy her mother began. Her words echo through the halls, the bus lot, and the volleyball court—a message for her students and for herself: you’ll be strong.