This Happened

My students were just finishing a hilarious teacher for the day lesson on "acting" to get out of trouble with your parents, when Heidi knocked purposefully on my locked classroom door. "I forgot my keys," she said, and after I handed her mine, she lowered her voice and continued. "They're putting us in lockdown in a minute." Then she unlocked her door and returned my keys.

I began to prepare, lowering the inside blinds, turning off the lights. "I think we may be going into lockdown," I told the kids, but they were still giggling about the Kahoot! they'd just finished, and it took a minute to register.

"Is it a drill?" someone asked.

"Maybe not," I replied, powering down the SMART Board and moving to the exterior windows to close those blinds. Outside I saw the teachers from the elementary school across the way running frantically, gathering kids, shepherding them inside. 

Just then the principal's voice came across the P.A. "Staff and students, at this time we are in lockdown. Please follow the procedures."

Some students gasped, but I reassured them all. "If I had to guess, I would say it is something going on in the neighborhood, not in the building." Rather than perfunctorily going under the table where they were sitting, the majority of kids moved as far away from the door and into as sheltered a position as they could find. I heard heavy breathing and then soft sobs. There were also loud voices in the hallway, which I recognized as administration, and their presence confirmed my suspicion that there was no imminent threat. Before assuming my mandated position, I moved quietly to check on the students. I handed one the candy jar. "Pick a piece and pass it quietly," I whispered. The promise of a little sweetness snapped everyone out of their fears, for a moment, and we all waited quietly in the dark.

My watch started buzzing a few minutes later; colleagues were texting to see what each of us knew. "I barricaded the door," reported one.

I relayed my inference that it was police activity in the area, but an unsettled exchange continued until one teacher got a message from a neighbor whose child had texted her when we went into lockdown. That mom had called 911, and they confirmed that there had been an armed robbery at the convenience store on the corner. In that case, it seemed like a secure the building was more appropriate, and our principal announced as much a minute or so later. 

Even so, the kids were shaken. We had missed the change of class, and as they gathered their belongings to move on, some were pale and quiet and others loudly processed the experience. I walked with one student to the office so she could call home, and through the lobby doors I saw 15-20 parents waiting anxiously outside to pick up their kids. 

One of our plate glass entry doors was shattered, but not breached, and the principal stood talking to the building manager and a police officer. All around me kids were shouting that someone had tried to shoot their way in, but we shushed them and sent them to their next class. 

The real story was much more in keeping with our times: when he heard that something was happening at school, a young man hurried down to pick up his sisters and ensure their safety. Met with the locked doors and no response to outside communication which are required by our lockdown procedures, he became distraught and began kicking the glass until it shattered. Some reports of the situation indicated that he was armed and ready to confront any threat.

And so it is.