The Day I Rode the CA Bus

It was a day humming with the joyful energy of our school. Outside, the playgrounds were a kaleidoscope of activity—four-square, gaga ball, and volleyball. Inside, classrooms buzzed with students learning vowel patterns or tackling complex math problems. The day’s perfection was captured in a note a student delivered to me, a flash of neon pink with the word L-O-V-E highlighted in bright red. I was immersed in the joy of our wonderful school community.

I heard my phone buzz with a message to our Leadership Team: There had been a shooting at Evergreen High School. A cold dread washed over me as my thoughts immediately turned to our students. The Leadership Team, guided by the Lakewood Police Department, began monitoring the situation to determine if any action was needed on our campus. My own mind was already scanning the list of Lower School students who live in Evergreen, their home community now a scene of unimaginable crisis.

My phone rang. It was my dear colleague and friend, Katy Hills, Director of Visual & Performing Arts, who shared that she was concerned about our students who ride the bus into Evergreen to meet their families. Katy and I decided that we would ride the bus together—to help navigate traffic, communicate with parents, and provide a calm presence for the students and our driver. Our transportation department quickly mapped an alternate route to shield the children from the chaos near the high school. “I’ll get them home safe,” Mr. Randy, the driver, told us with quiet determination. “Whatever detours we need, I’ll take care of it.”

Ms. Hills and I were waiting when the students began to load, their faces full of questions about their surprise chaperones. “We won a prize to ride the B Bus today!” we told them with bright smiles. They were so excited to have us join them for the ride home.

What followed was a gift of pure peace. We watched a Third Grader and a Seventh Grader reading together. A First Grader and a Fourth Grader were singing Taylor Swift songs, their voices filling the bus. A Fifth Grader motioned for me to sit near him, eager to show me his latest art designs. They were simply children, existing in a bubble of innocence, completely unaware of the tragedy unfolding just miles away.

At each stop, Ms. Hills and I disembarked first to quietly inform waiting parents that their children had a peaceful ride and were shielded from the news. As we rode, my thoughts drifted to Evergreen High School—a place that, like CA, was meant to be a sanctuary. I pictured the principal and staff, now faced with the monumental task of helping their community heal.

When the last child was safely delivered, and the bus turned back toward CA, I was overcome with emotion. The scenes on Bus B—of connection, song, and simple childhood joy—stood in stark contrast to the day’s darkness. Mr. Randy’s steady presence and my friend’s partnership were a comfort, but the children were the true source of healing. They reminded me that goodness and kindness are not just ideals, but necessities. It is our job to protect that innocence, and I knew I would work to do so, tomorrow and every day after.