When I tell the story in the future, maybe even as soon as next year, I will tell it as though it all happened on the first day of school. The first day of school would be an awful day for kids to have to live through a lockdown. Nobody comes in or out. Parents are kept out until we are sure that we can release their children safely. And they have to show up with an ID. Small groups of children are walked to the bathroom. Lunch is eaten in the classroom. The hallways are empty. The windows are kept closed. The blinds are drawn. The heat is sweltering.
That would be a horrible way to spend the first day of school. Thank heavens the bad guys waited until the second day of school to hole up just two doors down with a heavily armed SWAT contingent just outside our school. From ten in the morning until after four in the afternoon. When it became apparent that the standoff could continue longer than the standard school day, we called parents to come down and pick up their kids, but because of volatile gunfire related concerns, we couldn't just bring the kids outside to wait for them. In groups of two or three, we slowly brought them up and out into the anxious waiting arms of their caregivers. Then there would be another shift in the tension level, and the police would ask us to stop sending kids out. And so we waited. And waited. Teachers used their best rainy day activities and students were extraordinarily patient as the hours ticked by. Parents grew more and more nervous and frustrated as they waited just outside the danger zone.
People have asked me if I was scared. I can honestly say that I wasn't, at least for myself. Being concerned for the kids I have been entrusted with was my core anxiety. That and boredom. It was hot and monotonous, and those rooms seemed to shrink as the day wore on. I thought about those poor Kindergartners who got to spend their second day of public education locked in a room with strangers. When it was all over, I wanted my mom, so I can only imagine what it must have been like for a five-year-old. Half the time they had been in school was spent under lock and key. Those parents who had such a hard time saying goodbye to their babies will no doubt cling to them just a little bit more in the coming days. Maybe that's the good news.
That would be a horrible way to spend the first day of school. Thank heavens the bad guys waited until the second day of school to hole up just two doors down with a heavily armed SWAT contingent just outside our school. From ten in the morning until after four in the afternoon. When it became apparent that the standoff could continue longer than the standard school day, we called parents to come down and pick up their kids, but because of volatile gunfire related concerns, we couldn't just bring the kids outside to wait for them. In groups of two or three, we slowly brought them up and out into the anxious waiting arms of their caregivers. Then there would be another shift in the tension level, and the police would ask us to stop sending kids out. And so we waited. And waited. Teachers used their best rainy day activities and students were extraordinarily patient as the hours ticked by. Parents grew more and more nervous and frustrated as they waited just outside the danger zone.
People have asked me if I was scared. I can honestly say that I wasn't, at least for myself. Being concerned for the kids I have been entrusted with was my core anxiety. That and boredom. It was hot and monotonous, and those rooms seemed to shrink as the day wore on. I thought about those poor Kindergartners who got to spend their second day of public education locked in a room with strangers. When it was all over, I wanted my mom, so I can only imagine what it must have been like for a five-year-old. Half the time they had been in school was spent under lock and key. Those parents who had such a hard time saying goodbye to their babies will no doubt cling to them just a little bit more in the coming days. Maybe that's the good news.
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