"Um…[silence]...?”
“Kingsley?....”
My co-worker was asking me on Wednesday morning whether we were going forward with interviewing someone for a job opening at my school on Thursday. However, when asked me what I thought in my head, “No, Thursday isn’t happening for those children.”
I didn’t feel much of a reaction when I heard the news about the shooting in Uvalde Tuesday afternoon. I was in the middle of the meeting. I wasn't surprised or shocked. I didn’t know what to think or feel; I just knew that there was something dark that had happened.
I usually have no problem falling asleep. Having young children has helped me fall to sleep without issues, as I rarely get enough sleep. But Tuesday night, I couldn’t sleep. The world felt quiet and unreal. I was brought back to myself hearing Buffy gently breathing in her bed, which was the last thing I remember before going to sleep.
I woke up slowly and pushed myself to get going in the early morning of Wednesday. Needing some strength and inspiration, I chose to wear a Bruce Springsteen t-shirt. I needed to be joyful like he could be in front of his audience in front of my students. His songs, speeches, and writings have helped me process what it meant to be American in the worst of times. I thought, "maybe you could help me today." I needed something, someone, somewhere to help me with this tragedy.
The feeling of going to a school as a teacher the day after a school shooting is hard to describe. It’s not about fear. It’s more a sense of sadness and absurdity. Driving to school Tuesday morning, I cried thinking about the fourth graders who had been killed, and I couldn’t help but picture my own fourth graders and what it would mean to my world, their family’s world, if they were no longer alive.
It feels absurd because what I’m doing feels pointless. I am working so hard to enrich my students’ lives while others do nothing to protect them. One of the most complex parts of being a parent is realizing that your child's safety is reliant on the goodwill of others. You can’t protect them their whole lives. You have to put their safety in the hands of others. While I am doing everything to keep my students safe, it feels absurd and infuriating that others are not.
I felt a chill as I walked into my school, so I tried to zip my hoodie up. I was wearing one of my favorite hoodies, a red one. I liked this hoodie so much that I didn’t mind that the zipper was broken. At that moment, trying to zip up my hoodie and not being able to, I felt uncomfortable and unprotected. It was broken, but I was still trying to use it.
When I greeted my first 4th-grade class at the moment, I chose to show them that I was happy to see them. We quickly got to work. I started teaching them to dance to “Holding Out For A Hero.” It was fun time teaching, my students enjoyed this dance, and it was nice to just share space with them. As we danced, I took off my hoodie because I didn’t need this feeling of warmth or protection; I had my students to make me feel whole. This song was what I needed to be in the moment for my students, but it also reminded me of what we all needed, what I needed: a hero.
My co-worker was asking me on Wednesday morning whether we were going forward with interviewing someone for a job opening at my school on Thursday. However, when asked me what I thought in my head, “No, Thursday isn’t happening for those children.”
I didn’t feel much of a reaction when I heard the news about the shooting in Uvalde Tuesday afternoon. I was in the middle of the meeting. I wasn't surprised or shocked. I didn’t know what to think or feel; I just knew that there was something dark that had happened.
I usually have no problem falling asleep. Having young children has helped me fall to sleep without issues, as I rarely get enough sleep. But Tuesday night, I couldn’t sleep. The world felt quiet and unreal. I was brought back to myself hearing Buffy gently breathing in her bed, which was the last thing I remember before going to sleep.
I woke up slowly and pushed myself to get going in the early morning of Wednesday. Needing some strength and inspiration, I chose to wear a Bruce Springsteen t-shirt. I needed to be joyful like he could be in front of his audience in front of my students. His songs, speeches, and writings have helped me process what it meant to be American in the worst of times. I thought, "maybe you could help me today." I needed something, someone, somewhere to help me with this tragedy.
The feeling of going to a school as a teacher the day after a school shooting is hard to describe. It’s not about fear. It’s more a sense of sadness and absurdity. Driving to school Tuesday morning, I cried thinking about the fourth graders who had been killed, and I couldn’t help but picture my own fourth graders and what it would mean to my world, their family’s world, if they were no longer alive.
It feels absurd because what I’m doing feels pointless. I am working so hard to enrich my students’ lives while others do nothing to protect them. One of the most complex parts of being a parent is realizing that your child's safety is reliant on the goodwill of others. You can’t protect them their whole lives. You have to put their safety in the hands of others. While I am doing everything to keep my students safe, it feels absurd and infuriating that others are not.
I felt a chill as I walked into my school, so I tried to zip my hoodie up. I was wearing one of my favorite hoodies, a red one. I liked this hoodie so much that I didn’t mind that the zipper was broken. At that moment, trying to zip up my hoodie and not being able to, I felt uncomfortable and unprotected. It was broken, but I was still trying to use it.
When I greeted my first 4th-grade class at the moment, I chose to show them that I was happy to see them. We quickly got to work. I started teaching them to dance to “Holding Out For A Hero.” It was fun time teaching, my students enjoyed this dance, and it was nice to just share space with them. As we danced, I took off my hoodie because I didn’t need this feeling of warmth or protection; I had my students to make me feel whole. This song was what I needed to be in the moment for my students, but it also reminded me of what we all needed, what I needed: a hero.
We sang “Crowded Table,” and I talked about how the words and how to represent how we feel about each other and ourselves. It was a good day with my fourth graders. I felt really fortunate to have had time with them. Part of me didn’t want to come to school on Wednesday, but I’m glad I did. Helping them have a moment of fun was something they needed, and I needed it. Wednesday was a reminder that I could do something for these students.
As a teacher, school shootings feel different when they involve students who are the same age as the ones you teach, and as a parent, they feel different when they include children who are the same age as your own. It wasn't until Wednesday afternoon that I realized that the children who died in Uvalde were the same age as my Ollie...
Thank you for sharing this. I am so sad. Thank you for being there for the kids---yours and theirs.
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