She tried to make me one of her victims when I first came to Drama High.
The only teacher I can talk to at this school is Mrs. Crowe. Iâve never had her as a teacher, but she was my advisor last year when I was in ASB. Mrs. Crowe, or Ms. Toni as she likes her students to call her, knows about the fallout between me and Misty over the summer. I came to visit her every day during summer school, but she doesnât know about KJ and me breaking up since it only happened two days ago. Iâm still in shock myself. Iâll have to wait until after second periodâs over to talk to her at break.
Â
10:09 A.M .
Mrs. Croweâs sitting at her desk in the back of the ASB office, which is made up of three classrooms: a main classroom where all the meetings are held; an alcove for the copier, fax machine, and computer; and a lounge area adjacent to Ms. Toniâs office.
Sheâs the only Black teacher at the school. Her husband, Mr. Crowe, was a bus driver for the Metro. Unfortunately, he died last year in a tragic accident on the 110/10 freeway exchange.
Mr. Crowe was on his normal bus route and got behind a tractor trailer carrying big steel beams. It was rush hour, so traffic mustâve been awful. Well, as traffic picked up pace, so did the truck, but not Mr. Croweâs bus. He knew better than to speed up too quickly on the 110/10 exchange. Itâs tricky and there are always way too many cars going in four different directions.
As he was sitting in traffic behind the tractor trailer, the driver of the trailer made a sudden, hard stop to avoid hitting a car. Apparently, one of the steel beams the truck was hauling was loose or at least that was the way it was told to Mrs. Crowe. She couldnât identify her husbandâs body because the beam came straight through the driverâs side and decapitated him. It wasnât a clean cut. His face was mutilated from the broken glass caused by the shattered windshield. She could only see his left hand. She used his wedding ring to identify him.
This happened after I returned from my surgery the first semester of last year. She didnât come back to work until the end of the second semester. When Mrs. Crowe did return, she stayed in her office for the first week, not talking to anyone unless she absolutely had to. I felt sorry for her. She was so sad and I really wanted to help her, so I asked Mama what to do.
âWrite her a little note to lift her spirits and give her a single yellow rose. Sheâll appreciate the gesture.â
I did just as Mama suggested. Mrs. Crowe never acknowledged the note, but she did appreciate the rose. After that, Mrs. Crowe would always ask me to run errands for her or to help with special projects. There were only a few weeks left in the school year by then, but it was long enough for us to become each otherâs home away from home.
After that, Mrs. Crowe became my school Mama. She always has my back. She tells me about any and every opportunity to compete for scholarships and grants and speaking engagements, etc. Later this year, sheâs helping me apply to summer programs at UCLA, Long Beach State, and Cal State Northridge.
Ms. Toni kinda reminds me of a taller, slightly older version of my mom. She always has a smile on her face and people just seem to gravitate toward her. She doesnât have to do anything for her students, especially not for me. But, she does anyway. She goes out of her way to make sure Iâm doing OK. When I arrive at her door, sheâs sitting with a cup of coffee in her hand.
âHey, Ms. Toni.â I walk around her desk to give her a big hug. It feels like she lost another pound or two from her already thin frame.
âJayd. Girl, you look gorgeous. And those boots. Youâre really saying something with those, girl. Howâs your first day going? Misty causing any trouble yet?â
Ms. Toni is a very attractive woman and must be in her fifties, but
The only teacher I can talk to at this school is Mrs. Crowe. Iâve never had her as a teacher, but she was my advisor last year when I was in ASB. Mrs. Crowe, or Ms. Toni as she likes her students to call her, knows about the fallout between me and Misty over the summer. I came to visit her every day during summer school, but she doesnât know about KJ and me breaking up since it only happened two days ago. Iâm still in shock myself. Iâll have to wait until after second periodâs over to talk to her at break.
Â
10:09 A.M .
Mrs. Croweâs sitting at her desk in the back of the ASB office, which is made up of three classrooms: a main classroom where all the meetings are held; an alcove for the copier, fax machine, and computer; and a lounge area adjacent to Ms. Toniâs office.
Sheâs the only Black teacher at the school. Her husband, Mr. Crowe, was a bus driver for the Metro. Unfortunately, he died last year in a tragic accident on the 110/10 freeway exchange.
Mr. Crowe was on his normal bus route and got behind a tractor trailer carrying big steel beams. It was rush hour, so traffic mustâve been awful. Well, as traffic picked up pace, so did the truck, but not Mr. Croweâs bus. He knew better than to speed up too quickly on the 110/10 exchange. Itâs tricky and there are always way too many cars going in four different directions.
As he was sitting in traffic behind the tractor trailer, the driver of the trailer made a sudden, hard stop to avoid hitting a car. Apparently, one of the steel beams the truck was hauling was loose or at least that was the way it was told to Mrs. Crowe. She couldnât identify her husbandâs body because the beam came straight through the driverâs side and decapitated him. It wasnât a clean cut. His face was mutilated from the broken glass caused by the shattered windshield. She could only see his left hand. She used his wedding ring to identify him.
This happened after I returned from my surgery the first semester of last year. She didnât come back to work until the end of the second semester. When Mrs. Crowe did return, she stayed in her office for the first week, not talking to anyone unless she absolutely had to. I felt sorry for her. She was so sad and I really wanted to help her, so I asked Mama what to do.
âWrite her a little note to lift her spirits and give her a single yellow rose. Sheâll appreciate the gesture.â
I did just as Mama suggested. Mrs. Crowe never acknowledged the note, but she did appreciate the rose. After that, Mrs. Crowe would always ask me to run errands for her or to help with special projects. There were only a few weeks left in the school year by then, but it was long enough for us to become each otherâs home away from home.
After that, Mrs. Crowe became my school Mama. She always has my back. She tells me about any and every opportunity to compete for scholarships and grants and speaking engagements, etc. Later this year, sheâs helping me apply to summer programs at UCLA, Long Beach State, and Cal State Northridge.
Ms. Toni kinda reminds me of a taller, slightly older version of my mom. She always has a smile on her face and people just seem to gravitate toward her. She doesnât have to do anything for her students, especially not for me. But, she does anyway. She goes out of her way to make sure Iâm doing OK. When I arrive at her door, sheâs sitting with a cup of coffee in her hand.
âHey, Ms. Toni.â I walk around her desk to give her a big hug. It feels like she lost another pound or two from her already thin frame.
âJayd. Girl, you look gorgeous. And those boots. Youâre really saying something with those, girl. Howâs your first day going? Misty causing any trouble yet?â
Ms. Toni is a very attractive woman and must be in her fifties, but
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