I couldn't post before. I just couldn't. I have cried more in the last week than I have in the last five years. My heart was absolutely ripped to pieces over this atrocity.
As a teacher, this has been especially hard for me. It hits close to home. Way too close. When I was driving to school on the 17th (with a great deal of trepidation - I admit), the radio station I was listening to dedicated Kurt Bestor's "Prayer of the Children" to the victims. I sobbed. This was especially powerful, because my daughter's dance group danced to this song when she was close to the age of those sweet babies who were gunned down. I was a mess when I got to work.
We met as a faculty before school started to discuss new safety procedures we would institute immediately ... classroom doors locked 24/7, ID checks for anyone wishing access to the school, forbidding parents from trying to get students off the buses while they were being loaded, etc. Our school is one of the safest in the district, with controlled access and fire doors that can section off (and lock off) parts of our very large school. However, facing the type of military grade firearms people have access to these days, you feel totally vulnerable. As one teacher said, "Given the right weapon, they could blow out a wall."
When I walked into my classroom I was hit again. Looking around my classroom, I immediately visualized how we hide during a lockdown. My imagination took over and played out our own version of Sandy Hook. I nearly threw up, visualizing my own students in danger. I thought about those teachers and administrators who lost their lives. I hope that those teachers felt valued by their community before they were called upon to make that ultimate sacrifice. I thought about how the teachers in our state have been villified, demonized, and degraded. Yet, the parents writing letters to the editor or commenting on the internet felt that it was the teachers' duty to keep the children safe and that they should be expected to die defending them. I sincerely pray that those six teachers felt they were appreciated and respected for the job they did everyday.
I worried as the time ticked by for the children's arrival. Would they be afraid? How could I reassure them? There were no ready answers, but I found I didn't need any. When the children arrived at school, their faces were not marked by fear. They were filled with the same youthful exuberance and anticipation of Christmas which they'd left with the previous Friday. I saw trust in those eyes. But most importantly, I saw hope. Instead of helping my children, they ended up helping me. I had lost a great deal of hope for this world of ours ... they reminded me that where there is life, there is hope. They also reminded me that, while evil may have its day, good will win out in the end.
Now the debate rages about how to protect our schools and our children. It will cost money, and no one want to hear that. Should we arm teachers? I don't see myself as Rambo, and I am not arrogant enough to believe that I could handle a situation that trained professionals find difficult. So far, the only "solution" voiced that really struck any kind of chord with me was to have National Guardsmen or veterans stationed in our schools. These are people who are trained to deal with high risk, life-or-death situations. We don't have enough policemen to cover every school in America, but we do have enough members of our armed forces. Frankly, I think protecting our schools is far more important than maintaining a presence in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, etc. If Americans truly value their children, it's time for them to prove it.
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