CRT Mom
The Story of Chelsea Boyle: Prologue & Chapter 1
Prologue
My story, and my subsequent unhappiness, began while my children were attending a small, boutique Spanish Immersion school, called Viejo Elementary in southern Orange County, California. Spanish Immersion schools fully immerse the children in the Spanish language. So, when my children entered kindergarten, their instruction was ninety percent in the Spanish language, with their teacher never speaking a word of English. Everything they heard, read, wrote etc. was in Spanish. As the children get older and go up in grade level, the percentage of Spanish only instruction decreases and the percentage of time they speak English increases.
Viejo Elementary is one of three Spanish Immersion elementary schools that exist within the Capistrano Unified School District.
Roughly half the children admitted to school are either already bilingual or Spanish is their first language and the other half know only English. My children are part of the latter group. The goal with mixing children with varying levels of Spanish speaking abilities together, is so that they can learn from each other in addition to their everyday instruction.
My husband, Darren, is from England. I moved to England in September 1997 with barely 2 cents to rub together. I met Darren in October of 1997 and, on our very first date, while on the train to London to go get dinner, we fell in love and decided to get married.
I ended up staying in England for almost five years. Even though England speaks the same language as the United States, the culture is entirely different, and some of my favorite memories concern immersing myself into the unique experience of living abroad.
While living in England, I cannot tell you how many times I would turn to Darren and try to explain something from my point of view as a foreigner. He just didn't get it.
Darren and I moved back to California in 2002. After living in California for about three years, Darren finally told me that he understood how I felt living as a foreigner. "I get it now.” He explained, “I see and feel how you felt all the times you tried to explain your experience with immersing yourself in a different culture.”
Our experience as foreigners was the catalyst for enrolling our children in a Spanish Immersion school. We wanted our children's lives to be enriched with a multicultural education. We wanted them to value people, cultures, foods, and experiences over material things and have the skill of bilingualism to help them achieve their goals in life.
Unfortunately, my children got a hell of a lot more than we bargained for when we enrolled them into a Spanish Immersion program at Viejo Elementary!
So, the story really starts with my son and the bullying he received daily since the age of 8 years old at Viejo.
My son is a good boy. He gets good grades. He is very sweet and empathetic. At times he is a bit silly. He is respectful to adults and his teachers, and he is one of the most honest children you will ever meet.
My son is the oldest, but he is most definitely my baby. He talks to me about his problems before going to Darren. I attribute this to his birth and the months that followed. He was six and a half weeks early. Both of us almost died in childbirth.
After we got sent home from the hospital, I knew that something was wrong with him. I fought with everyone, doctors, nurses, Darren, my mom, my sister ...absolutely everyone and they all just placated me, treating me like I just had a bad case of postpartum depression. I didn't care, I just knew something wasn’t right (in a guttural sense) the way that only true moms know.
Shout out to our accidental pediatrician, Dr. Scott Gaitan at Seaview Pediatrics! I say "accidental" because I screwed up. I missed my son's first pediatrician appointment. Luckily, I squeezed in with Dr. Gaitan at the last minute.
At our appointment, I brought up my concerns about my son’s health. We fought about it. I wanted him to help. I wanted him to listen to me, and I ended up calling him a "douchebag." With that, I think I shocked the hell out of him, and I laugh about it now. His nurse, Kathie, thinks it’s hilarious to this day.
My persistence convinced Dr. Gaitan to examine my son again. Sure enough, his second examination revealed an issue with my son’s heart. Dr. Gaitan referred us to all the best specialists. Had he not examined my son again, he probably would have died. My son spent the next few months in the Cardiac PICU until he was strong enough for open heart surgery at seven and a half weeks old. While in the PICU, he was hooked up to multiple machines, so I couldn't pick him up or even nurse him.
For months while my son was in the hospital, I wouldn't leave his side. I laid my body over him in his hospital bed/crib so he could feel me and my love for him. I would stand for six or more hours to be near him, to touch him, and I often fell asleep standing up. I was the mom that nurses took notice of and hurt for. I was the mom that nurses would break the rules for and sneak a Starbucks into the PICU for. I was the mom that all the nurses whispered about and cried for because they knew that my son's life wouldn't be the only one lost if he didn't make it. So, yeah, I am my son's "person."
All through 2021 my son was bullied at school. I tried to work through it with him, build him up and give him the strength to handle it in a way that was appropriate, not fighting back and working through his problems civilly. When this didn’t work, I sent an email to Viejo Elementary’s Principal, Jesus Becerra, alerting him of the problem so that he could address it.
I knew from talking to other parents that the boys bullying my son were also bullying other children. Parents talk. Some even chatted on the Viejo Elementary Dual Immersion School Parents Facebook page about it.
It got to the point where my son was viciously and physically attacked by another student (one who has bullied many other boys and girls at Viejo throughout the years). The attack culminated in my son being kicked in the testicles, hit in the gut twice, and having a water bottle thrown at him three times as he tried to get away from his assailant. The bottle hit my son in the back twice and the back of the head once.
My son did the right thing. He found the only supervisor on the playground, Senora Cruz. He told Senora Cruz that he was hurt and needed help. He told her the story of what had happened, but there was one problem. The supervisor happened to be the aggressor's mother. My son sought help from a school employee that is charged with keeping him safe, only to be told "I'm too busy, go find someone else. "
Dejected and in pain, my son went back to class and suffered in silence until I picked him up after school.
Do you know how upsetting and humiliating it is for a nine-year-old-boy to be examined by a medical professional for testicular torsion? I do. I’ve seen it.
I can tell you, honestly, that the situation was not handled properly by Principal Becerra or Capistrano Unified School District from start to finish.
When confronted, Becerra had the gall to ask me why my son didn’t find another adult to speak with after Senora Cruz told him she was too busy. I replied, demanding that he stop victim shaming my son, who walked away as he was viciously and continuously attacked. My son found an adult, who is employed to handle situations like this. He asked her for help, and he was ignored. He did everything right.
I remember Principal Becerra asking again, exasperated, "but why didn't he tell someone else when Senora Cruz said she was too busy?"
I replied, “Senora Cruz is the adult. Why didn't she tell someone else? She has a walkie talkie. Why didn't she immediately call another supervisor, the front office, or a teacher for help?” I asked him, “Why didn't she tell someone else?! Why are you blaming my son?”
Pissed is a freaking understatement, I was incensed. Over the course of the next week or so, it became very apparent that Becerra was not taking the complaint seriously or investigating the situation properly. Looking back, it seems that everything said and done was aimed at mitigating the reprehensible actions and culpability of the district and its employees.
The first day I sent my son back to school (I kept him home for a few days to recover), the same kid came up to him and stood over him while he was eating. My son’s tormentor quietly spoke in my son’s ear, whispering and insinuating threats. Terrified, my son froze, didn’t respond, and kept eating. He didn't react, he didn't tell any friends, he just kept eating. He told me about the interaction when I picked him up from school; he was sobbing.
I was enraged. What in the actual F?!?!? Apparently, this bully couldn’t help himself. He obviously had no remorse for his actions, only that he got caught. So, the next day, I contacted Principal Bacerra to lodge an official complaint.
Becerra went away and did his little investigation and ended up sending me an email basically saying he believed it didn't happen because there are no witnesses or evidence and that he had talked with the boy (whose name my son gave as a potential witness to the intimidation) and there was nothing he saw or heard.
When I received this email, I just happened to be on the phone with the mom of the other boy whose name my son gave, and her son was sitting right next to her at home. He was sick and never went to school that day. I knew immediately that Becerra lied about the scope of his investigation, and I sent him an email calling him out for just that, lying. I explained how I knew that he was lying and that his credibility and trust were lost.
I believe it was at this point when my husband sent Becerra an email telling him he is not to be alone with our children nor to question either of them without a parent present. My husband also jumped on the phone and started calling some attorneys because he was sick to death of our son being bullied, victim shamed, and lied about.
It was also around this time that I, too, sent Becerra an email asking him to only contact me via email and in writing. After that, there were a couple of times that Becerra called me and approached me at school. Each time, I walked away or hung up and followed up with an email asserting that he is only to contact me in writing.
My interaction with Mr. Bacerra was a catalyst, I began taking notes, pictures, videos, audio recordings, saving emails, text messages etc. I filed these away "just in case." Little did I know, my catching Bacerra in a lie was a blessing in disguise, which prepared me to properly document evidence against the district for the next phase of the nightmare that was my childrens' experience with blatant racism in the California public school system.
I wish I had never seen behind the "iron curtain" so-to-speak. I was exposed to horrors, and I can never unsee, unhear, unfeel or unexperience—a nightmare that the district purposely and needlessly put my family through.
So, with all that, this is me and my first attempt at really writing anything in my life. I am just a mom, that is fiercely fighting to protect my kids and in doing so, protecting yours. It is raw and I suppose that is where I begin my "journal" my "diary" that somehow, someway turned into my book, "CRT MOM"
CRT Mom
Chapter One
March 8, 2022
I’m waiting in the infamous school pick up line, doing exactly that, waiting to pick up my children from school. You know the line. The line where two groups of parents merge. One group of parents seems to always zoom in at the last second and cut off fifty other cars, always spouting the same, “what, I didn’t know” excuse. The other group of parents, like me, arrive way too early, thirty plus minutes before school lets out.
Finally, the bell rings and all the small children run out, smiling and happy that school is done for the day. I noticed little M right away. Her mom, Cathy and I have always been cordial with one another, exchanging books and other school related supplies that we think would be beneficial to each other and our kids. In fact, the last time I texted Cathy was because I saw her in her car, and I wanted to offer her all the 2nd grade flash cards for her daughter.
Cathy usually puts her daughter’s hair into cute braids or pig tails, much like I do with my own daughter’s hair, to keep it from becoming a tangled mess, complete with glue, paint, or even leaves stuck in it by the time I pick up B (my daughter) from school.
This was the first time I ever saw M with her hair down and natural and I have to say it looked stunning. It was shiny and curly and seemed to bounce beautifully as she walked. I immediately grabbed my phone and sent a text to Cathy.
I don’t know if you usually DO her hair because it becomes a mess but your daughter’s hair is BEAUTIFUL wild and crazy.
I remember smiling after I sent it as it was intended as a compliment, which is why I was so utterly confused by the response I received about 10 minutes later.
This is [M’s] father. I don’t know who you think you are, but this is the last time you mention anything about my daughter’s appearance. What you don’t know is that [M] asked her mom not to do her hair after washing it. I shouldn’t have to mention that her mom’s arm is injured. Let this be the last time you text us anything about my child unless its an emergency. I don’t and I don’t play like that. Am I clear?
What the actual hell? Wait a minute. What just happened? I quickly reread the text message I had sent, desperately looking for something wrong. How could my text have been misconstrued or thought of as anything other than the sincere compliment it was intended to be?
I don’t know if you usually DO her hair because it becomes messy...
Did that come off wrong? I didn’t mean to imply that M’s hair is messy, I just always do B’s hair because hers becomes messy. Maybe I should have added that part in, but still, I meant nothing by my comment. It did not even cross my mind that this could be offensive.
Still, Cathy’s husband, Mario, had to grab his wife’s phone and send a text to another mother, a text that I felt was quite aggressive and threatening. How dare he. I would lose my mind if my husband, Darren, did that to another mom at school! Oh no. No. No. No. No. How DARE he talk to me that way.
So, good, bad, or indifferent, I decided to reply, explaining what I meant while, at the same time, conveying to him that I did not appreciate and would not tolerate being talked to in that manner.
I am so so sorry that Cathy hurt her arm. I, myself just had surgery on my leg and I understand how missing an appendage can ruin a mom’s life, even temporarily.
My comment was a compliment as to absolutely how completely beautiful [M’s] natural hair is and I have never seen it naturally and shouldn’t be taken as anything BUT a compliment. Your daughter is a sweet soul and I am so sorry that someone who thinks it is beautiful naturally can be thought of anything BUT a compliment.
Your email is aggressive and offensive to me. I don’t know who you deal with or what you have faced in your past to take a compliment of your daughter’s beautiful hair as offensive but I feel sorry for you.
I will NOT have a man or anyone for that matter send a belligerent text message for no reason at all. I don’t play like that. Am I clear?
Maybe repeating his phrasing of, “I don’t play like that. Am I clear?’ was too much, but his text to me was so threatening and out of the blue, that I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t know where the hostility was coming from. I mean, I have been known in the past to say things incorrectly at times and stick my foot in my mouth. Trust me, my husband is the first to tell me. But even though I know I say stupid things on occasion, I am also the FIRST person to apologize and take responsibility for my actions when I know I have made a mistake. I feel like I explained what my initial text to Cathy meant but I refuse to sit idly by when I get some random, threatening text from a husband from another mom’s phone.
He texted me back.
I said what I said. You text me. I didn’t text you. I know my daughter is beautiful and don’t need you to tell me. I don’t want or need your compliments. I don’t care what you want me to believe you meant. No one threatened you. Don’t feel sorry for me. Worry about yourself. If you don’t like my tone, then don’t contact my wife. We tolerate no disrespect from anyone when it comes to our children. The best thing you can do is stay in your place and strive to be the best you.
“The best me?” Wait, WHAT? How the hell did this all go so far sideways so quickly? I still don’t understand. WHAT DID I DO?? Why is this man displaying so much anger and hostility towards me?? I may have screwed up in my wording on how I complimented his daughter, but I owned up to it and I thought that he might own up to his part of the conversation but, apparently, I was wrong.
I was stressing BIG time when I got home. Thank goodness Daren was there to help me.
“ I need your help.” I explained, “you need to read these text messages because I am just NOT seeing something. Is it me or is this just off? I feel threatened, am I wrong?”
Darren read the messages and was immediately PISSED off. He was ready to grab my phone and give this dad a few choice words of his own, but I told him not to.
“No, that will make it worse. I am flabbergasted at the fact he took his wife’s phone to respond in the first place. I wouldn’t forgive you if you grabbed my phone and responded to a school mom the way he has me.”
Darren respected my decision and we decided that we should send a response after discussing it together. It went as follows:
I NEVER contacted YOU. I sent a text to your wife that LITERALLY said “your daughter’s hair is BEAUTIFUL” The word “beautiful” in CAPS. I didn’t disrespect anyone but I sure as hell feel sorry for you that you have to pick up your wife’s phone, read her text messages and respond in an absolute deranged, fanatical way about how beautiful your daughter’s hair is. Do not text me back and in return, I will never contact or talk to Cathy again or invite/involve [M] in any parties/activities etc outside of school.
That’s it. That’s how it went down. I didn’t know that this text exchange was going to irrevocably set events and actions into place that would change my life, my family’s life, and in the end (hopefully), change the lives of many parents and children across the Nation for the better.
Still very stressed out and hoping for a little clarity, I took screenshots of all the messages and sent them to my friend Jen.[1]
Not that you WANT to read this s*** but take a step back and think about if I sent you the exact same text… what would you think?... then think about how you would feel if your hubby got THIS aggressive toward another mom…. And then think about …WTF would a HUSBAND grab a wife’s phone and respond or even read her messages….
I am so mother f****** completely disgusted, offended, scared etc.
No boundaries, aggressive, threatening, misogynistic, controlling….I could go ON AND ON AND ON
It is important to note that I normally wouldn’t spread gossip about one friend to another. In this case, however, I was desperate for clarity.
Jen responded:
That’s aggressive.
Me:
I know its A LOT to unpack.
Jen responded:
I’ll text more in a bit, but I think after the All Lives Matter stuff with [B] last year, they are sensitive to anything you say about [M].
Totally clueless as to what she was talking about, I replied:
All lives with [B]?
I continued typing, not waiting for a response, but her next text came in before I could hit send on mine.
When she drew the picture with a few girls in extended learning and she wrote all lives matter under the Black Live Matter.
As I said, I texted back this next response before reading the above.
Don’t give a sh** what they are sensitive about, Jen. Legit texted how beautiful her hair is. That is it. Nothing negative. All lives matter.. This is him PROJECTING NEGATIVE and being aggressive and THREATENING to me.
Then, after reading hers, I thought “all lives matter?” What is she talking about? I texted her again:
who wrote that? MY [B]?
Her response:
Yes. Your [daughter]. Didn’t Becerra tell you about it?
DING DING DING ALARM BELLS IN MY BRAIN!!!!!!!!!!!! What is she talking about???
I immediately responded:
NOOOOOO AND I AM ASKING HER RIGHT NOW AND I AM F****** PISSED
And how do YOU know about this?
I didn’t get a reply at that time. I was doing the “mom rush” thing, rushing off to get my kids to swim lessons. In the car on the way over, I was able to quickly ask B about what had happened. My poor girl. I was PISSED and, unfortunately, my daughter knew it. So, I turned to her and asked:
“I am NOT mad at you, mommy is angry, and it is NOT at you. But I need to know! Did you EVER get in trouble from Mr. Becerra for drawing a picture?”
She looked at me and said, “yes.”
I asked, “why didn’t you tell me?”
She responded “ Mommy, I got in so much trouble at school and I didn’t want you to be mad at me. I thought if I was in real trouble, Mr. Becerra would have called you. I didn’t want to get in more trouble.”
I can’t fault her eight year old logic, or her seven year old logic at the time of the incident. If she would have done something I felt was unacceptable at school, we would have talked about it at home and consequences may have been had.
I continued, “What did you draw?”
She replied, “I drew a picture of all my friends holding hands and I wrote ‘Black Lives Matter, Any Lives Matter.”
I asked her. “Oooookay. Why did you get in trouble?”
“Because I wrote ‘All Lives Matter,” she said.
“Who said that was wrong?” I asked.
“Mr. Becerra. He said it was inappropriate and I couldn’t write those words anymore. I got in trouble. He took away my recess and made me apologize.” She said sadly.
I replied, “Okay, baby, you did NOTHING wrong. You are a good girl, and you are not in trouble. Go swim, but we need to talk more about this later.”
While my kids swam, I called Jen. I was IRATE. I needed to know more, I needed to talk to her and ask her some questions.
I told her that I had talked to B and so far, Jen’s version seemed identical to what B had said. Jen then proceeded to tell me that it was Cathy who had called her and told her and Erica the story of what happened with B. I was so upset. Jen told me that she had always thought it weird that I hadn’t tried to call Cathy to mend fences, but she had also always figured I had known about it. But, of course, I didn’t. I WOULD have reached out to Cathy had I known. I don’t know if I would have apologized since, B did absolutely nothing wrong, but I would have at least tried to mend a fence, something! Jen and I both agreed during this phone call that Becerra was totally in the wrong and I SHOULD have been contacted.
Damn. I AM IRATE. My daughter is innocent, and worst of all she has been punished for drawing an innocent picture of all her multicultural friends that she adores. Not only am I angry that I was never told, but because I was never told, I feel that I had my parental rights were stolen from me. I had a PIVOTAL parental teaching moment STOLEN from me. At the same time, I realized that parents at Viejo harbored a tremendous amount of hate and animosity toward me and my family, which has only grown over the past year. I realized then for the first time that this was the worst type of hate, racist hate. Amazingly, I was the only one who didn’t know about it.
WOW.
Immediately, I started typing a very angry email to Mr. Becerra. I pounded so hard on my phone with my thumbs that I am surprised I didn’t shatter the dang glass.
Mr. Becerra,
I have JUST become aware that last year my first grade daughter drew a picture of children holding hands together (all races and colors) and titled the picture “All Lives Matter.”
At that time, another parent with a child of color at school took offense to my daughter’s picture of children of all colors and races titled All Lives Matter and brought it up in a meeting with you.
My daughter was brought in to your office and made to APOLOGIZE to children in her class for her picture and she was LECTURED AND PUNISHED by you because of this picture and EDUCATED about “Black Lives Matter.”
I am so so so BEYOND upset that this happened, I am JUST finding out about this now from ANOTHER PARENT who thought I already KNEW. Please find BELOW an email sent to YOU that YOU replied to on September 6th, 2020.
Why was I NEVER called? Why was I not even INFORMED that this happened to my daughter? I would have LOVED the opportunity to “be a parent” and educate MY CHILDREN as to how to treat other children & racism. My children are taught to treat EVERYONE with respect and kindness DESPITE their age, race, religion etc yet despite my VERY CLEAR and EXPLICIT instructions via email, you IGNORE my requests and choose to PUNISH my INNOCENT CHILD and “educate” then that a special race is more important that another.
What say you? This is absolutely DISGUSTING and abhorrent behavior by yourself and the school!
Chelsea Boyle
I guess you could say I was a little upset. Well, a little more than upset. I was beside myself. Regardless, I pulled myself together for my kids, who had just finished swim lessons. Afterwards, I went straight home to tell Darren. Because of the tears, I could barely get the words about what had happened out of my mouth. Darren and I felt so damned violated! So, the next morning, after I dropped the kids off at school, I wrote another email.
[1] Jen and I had known each other before her daughter started at Viejo. When her daughter started, I took her under my wing, told her how things worked at the school, and even told her about one of my favorite people at the school, Lisa.
I would describe Lisa as the school secretary. She is part of the administration staff, but she is just SO MUCH MORE. I absolutely LOVE Lisa. She knows everything, she deals with everything and she truly is the heart and soul of the school and deserves more credit.
I also took the time to tell Jen about the principal, Jesus Becerra. At the time, when Jen’s daughter first started at Viejo, I was close with Mr. Becerra and told Jen that he was calm, charming, and seemed to listen to the parent concerns. What I later learned, however, is that listening (as opposed to actually hearing) only goes so far. At first, I believed that the best interests of all the children at Viejo was his primary concern. I was so wrong.
The number of parents involved at the school, as I was, who were initially taken by Mr. Becerra’s charm, friendly nature, and his ability to listen is staggering. However, most realize that Mr. Becerra pays lip service by about 3rd grade. By then, many of the parents stop donating their time to the school—sick of the slick, car salesman act that enchanted them before.