I am not just mad. I am irrationally angry.
Every time we have a lockdown drill, I end up fuming for most of the day. I know that I am snapping at students. I know that I have zero patience points left. I know that my empathy evaporated with each repeat of the "We are in lockdown. Please follow lockdown procedures" statement that repeats ad nauseam for countless minutes. I tell my kids the rest of the day, "I'm really sorry, but I'm not in a great place. Please just make good choices right now and don't push it" as I try to teach the rest of my classes and not lay into them with my rage at their lack of urgency.
I didn't go into teaching to put my life on the line to protect students. I just wanted to challenge them to find their voice and their agency and change the fucking system. I wanted them to read great books and envision themselves changing the world.
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| Photo by t Penguin on Unsplash |
I have to decide, in a moment, whether I am willing to die because a kid decides that casually drinkin' their juice is more important than acting with urgency, even if it is just a drill.
I still remember vividly, the drill over a decade ago, where we got to pretend that one of my best friends had been shot by a school shooter and was on the ground, bleeding out, while we observed what the police response would be and how long it woul take. I still remember vividly what we were supposed to do to save ourselves and our students as we watched one of my best friends "die."
I still remember vividly what it was like, a couple of years ago, to have a SWAT team with long guns come into my room, command that I show myself, point their guns at me, and demand that I identify who I am and who I have hidden in my back office.
I still remember vividly what it was like to walk out to the football field, my students holding hands and sobbing, as we marched by the local police and state police and FBI -- so many guns-- and screaming parents demanding that we release their kids, and I remember the social media rumors gone wild about the influx of patients to the local ER, and the hysterical teacher group chat, and shivering uncontrollably because it was so cold outside, even when the actual truth was that we'd only been swatted. There was no shooter.
There was no shooter today. Not in my school, at least.
But we practiced, just in case. Because there was a shooter just a few days ago. Just last week. Just last month. Just at least 52 and maybe even 149 times this year.
And this makes me absolutely, irrationally angry.
This is fucking madness. But we practice 3x a year, just in case.
Just in case.
