This morning The Principal sent an email to the whole staff to notify us that there won’t be after school activities on the 16th because the local police are going to be in the building to do an Alice training presentation/demo for the administrators. I promptly wrote back to ask why they’re planning to do that, given that there’s little evidence that Alice training works and lots of evidence that it’s needlessly traumatic. Clearly, I speak very candidly to my boss, and, lucky for me, he actually appreciates it.

He came to my classroom later in the day to give me a chance to say more, answer my questions, and share his point of view. He assured me that any training will be coming from the local police- no paid consultants making money off of the nation’s inability to deal with the issue of gun violence- and that it won’t involve the student body. I asked if it would involve the staff, and reminded him that we went through a lockdown the year before he got here, and that realistic training for another one could be triggering. He acknowledged that point- and also that this year’s hard enough without adding on any more trauma- and he’s taking it into consideration going forward. I promised I’m not going to be a total problem child about this since, ultimately, it’s his call, not mine. But I was glad he heard me out.

It’s a heavy topic to shake off before going and teaching, but I think I managed all right. I’m covering types of governments in World right now, so today I started with our own as an example of a presidential republic. I divided the class into two teams, and had them use the Constitution to find answers to various questions (ie, what are the qualifications to be President, how long are terms in the House and Senate, who chooses Supreme Court justices). The team that answered them the fastest won. It’s something different than what we normally do, so I figured it would be fun. 

It went really well in my Block 2 class (everyone was engaged, we were discussing why the founding fathers made certain choices, lots of learning was happening), and pretty well in my Block 4 class (they actually had the best discussion, but I had a few students continually getting off task). It wasn’t bad in Block 1, but the teams were very chatty and distracted by one another, so I had to address that multiple times, and my teaching was choppy as a result. But, anyways, after we did that, they read an article about how parliamentary republics are different from presidential ones, we discussed it, and that took us right to the bell.

My APUSGOV students have a test tomorrow, so today was a review day. If someone came into the room during a test review, they’d see a lot of different things going on. I had some students writing in notebooks, some students on chromebooks, some just listening, some with their cell phones out to record (audio only).... I let them do whatever worked for them, and once they were out of questions for me, we did some practice MCQs together. They realized halfway through that I’d purposefully scheduled the test for the day before they have a day off- do the hard thing, take a break- and they were like, “Those are some serious planning skills, Miss M!”

I wish I could say all of my students were that grateful, but the one I mentioned yesterday is pretty pissed off that I gave Mrs. F permission to withdraw her from my class. She interpreted that as me wanting to kick her out, which isn’t what I want, really; I just want her to be successful, and I haven’t been able to help her. She didn’t actually withdraw, though, since there wasn’t another course she wanted to enroll in, so now I have to try and figure out how to turn this around. I’m not sure if I can, but I’ll do my best... 

My first lockdown drill this year was pretty bad. As I was running around, I had a sub in the Library who was just standing out in the open. I went to check on the door and I locked eyes with the cop on the other side of the door. This was also the day one of the students farted and then decided that that was so funny, he would continue to make farting noises.

Anyway, this is just to say that there was another lockdown drill and while I was running around, I again locked eyes with not one, but TWO cops coming up the stairs. I accidentally blurted out, “fuck”, and shut the door, but I heard them laughing.

As if today wasn’t bad enough, my seven-year-old just told me about the “lockdown” drill she had at after care today. Apparently the kids got graded on how well they did. (Although she could be confused about this. She is seven.) Here’s what happened.

After they finished snack time at the picnic tables in the shade, which usually involves juice and Goldfish or Cheezits, both in pouches (so fresh and healthy, thanks GUSD), they walked to the classroom together. 

(Side note: The after school program my girls are in is probably about 30 or 40 kids aged between first and sixth grade. They all share one classroom, which I think is awesome. They have snacks together. Do homework together. Play outside together. Make crafts together, like the orange-plaid-flannel-wrapped toilet paper rolls with a twig and felt leaves on top that sat on my toilet from Thanksgiving until like, last week, making the shitter super festive. They hang out for two to three hours, five days a week. My girls have both been in after care since kindergarten. They love it. They have a whole separate kid society with their after care crew, on top of their school society. And unless I’m the last parent there (which I often am), they usually don’t want to leave. So please, spare me your anti-after care lectures.) 

At this point, one of the teachers informed them that they would be having a “lockdown” drill. When I asked Billie what that means, she explained that sometimes someone who doesn’t have a kid might try to “break through the fence” and come in to, “like, try and steal a kid or with a gun or something.” 

My heart went to my heels. 

At 4pm, as expected, the teacher--let’s call her Ms. P--blew her whistle to start the drill. The kids all scrambled to find hiding places, while the teachers ran to lock the door and the “office lady” pretended to be the bad guy, trying to get in from outside. You know, for the sake of reality. According to Billie (Mila wasn’t there today so I can’t verify this), the fifth and sixth graders all hid under the desks, leaving the younger kids with nowhere to go except under the whiteboard, which has no furniture in front of it and therefore makes them sitting ducks. I mean, you can’t blame the fifth and sixth graders. Their brains are more developed. And yet they are still children. What wins--survival, or empathy? (What should win? Jesus.) But still, what the fuck.

And again--Billie said they got graded on how well they hid. We don’t get after care report cards, so I’m not sure what she means by this. But she was adamant. When the drill was over, they unlocked the door, crawled out from under the desks/whiteboard, and went back to their Chromebooks. Or their crafts. Or their homework. All these children just carried on like everything was completely normal.

I cannot emphasize enough how utterly fucked up this is. My friends in other countries are horrified by the notion that our kids have to have these drills. Because IT IS SO FUCKED UP. On a day when things, on a global scale, are not going, historically speaking, very well, this was really a little more than my tired heart could take.

My friend/boss Janelle said to me on Monday, in the wake of the Sunday’s heartbreaking news, “Everything just feels so dark and fleeting right now.” And I have been running that through my mind all week. It’s like a sore tooth, I can’t leave it alone.  

Dark and fleeting.

Dark and fleeting.

Dark and fleeting. 

And yet, I have a fucking ten year old. And a fucking seven year old. And maybe I am just as naive as parents have been in every other awful period of history, but I just can’t believe that things won’t get better. Right? They have to. 

Don’t they?