By Anna Peirce (8th)
Have you ever heard about a crazy teacher running around screaming? Or maybe you’ve experienced it firsthand—well, that would be Mrs. Crum.

Mrs. Crum
Mrs. Crum, the unforgettable 8th grade Orange Team history teacher, is hilarious, chaotic, and wildly unpredictable. But she is also kind, deeply caring, and a constant source of support. In her classroom, learning goes far beyond textbooks. Mrs. Crum has helped her students bring history to life, and she dives into every project with the same wild energy and support that make her classroom feel more like home than school. (Literally—she helped turn me into Mozart for the wax museum.)
Mrs. Crum is the kind of teacher students don’t forget—not just because she’s often seen running down the hallway shouting about some new classroom adventure, but because her class is somewhere where everyone feels seen, heard, safe, and free to be themselves. Her passion for history, education, and getting to know and build relationships with students is truly remarkable. She takes the time to truly know her students—what they care about, what makes them laugh, and what they’re capable of, even when they can’t see it yet.
By the end of the year, for many students—myself included—Mrs. Crum didn’t feel like just a teacher anymore. She became a friend. She created a space where we could laugh, mess up, grow, and come as we are. A space where we didn’t feel judged—just accepted, encouraged, and supported.
Now, at the end of the year, I’m getting ready to move on, and I will carry every lesson she’s taught me. And I know her impact doesn’t stop with me—she’ll continue to inspire students the way she inspired me. And I’ll aspire to be like her every day.
Mrs. Crum, you have been one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, and I will miss you dearly. You saw my potential and gave me the hope and faith I needed to reach my dreams. You taught me to take on challenges, and you helped me achieve what I once thought was unattainable. Mrs. Crum, you helped me reach the impossible.

