A Teacher’s Perspective
Today started out as a typical day. Alarm goes o . I hit the snooze button (repeat as o en as necessary) and I am on my way to school (I am a middle school teacher) but all I wanted to do was call out sick because, well, it is Friday. Sometimes that is the only reason teachers need.
However, I didn’t. I soldiered on, as we do, focusing instead on counting down to the next upcoming long weekend or break — only 26 school days, but who’s counting. When I got to school, I made a deal with my second-period students: If they could come up with creative strategies that “looked like” we were doing math, I would let them goof o because it is Friday and you need a plan if the principal decides to randomly walk into your classroom. All you administrators out there, cool your jets. is was strategic! I swear! AND I actually ended up with some brilliant ideas that I will incorporate into future lesson plans.
e next class went about the same, except they had some di erent, equally amazing, strategies. We decided that playing Uno was very math-focused. Right, fellow math teachers? About 10 minutes before the bell was set to ring for lunch, we got an “all call” over the schoolwide loudspeaker, “We are on a Stage 1 lockdown. I repeat, we are on a Stage 1 lockdown.”
A Stage 1 lockdown means there is an active threat on campus. You are to immediately: 1) shut and lock your classroom door; 2) close the blinds; 3) turn o the lights; 4) silence your phones; 5) silently barricade any entry points; and nally 6) retreat to the safest corner of the classroom.
Cue my anxiety. I am a veteran teacher from an unnamed district that has had a school shooting within the past ve years. Sadly, I know this information is vague enough that no one will be able to trace me or track down which school district I used to work for. According to my favorite news source there have been 45 school shootings so far this year. We are only barely through September. is is 45 too many.
Some back story: I am a gun owner and advocate. I was raised around guns. I was taught to appreciate guns and their e ects from a young age. I have pics of myself at a duck hunt as a baby. I respect guns and have taught my children the same. In my previous district, the school where I completed my student teaching 12 years ago was the victim of yet another school shooting. At the time, I did not work at that school, but was working for a therapeutically focused school. We were a nationally recognized regionalized therapeutic program. at meant we took the most emotionally broken students and taught them the tools they would need as adults to be successful. Yes, I am extremely proud of the work I did there.
Now, imagine you get notice that your entire district, with approximately 21,000 students, calls for a Stage 1 lockdown. I am sequestered in my classroom with approximately 20 emotionally troubled high school students for two hours while law enforcement conducted a house-by-house search for the shooter. I had students in tears, frantically texting even more frantic parents that they were OK. I had myself, also frantically, trying to remain calm and lead by example while texting my loved ones that I was OK.
Now, present day, ve years later. You are a teacher at a new district with new guidelines (remember, they have never had a shooting), that you are not aware of as it is only your fourth week. You are having a fantastic day so far. You are laughing, having fun. Your instructional assistant asks you, in the middle of challenging a student to see who could hold a plank longer, “Where were you when I was in middle school?”
I told him, “I am trying to be the teacher I needed when I was in middle school.”
en you hear, “We are at a Stage 1 lockdown. Repeat, we are at a Stage 1 lockdown.”
In my brain, I am now in full panic mode. On the outside my previous training kicks in and I am calm and cool as a cucumber. I am thinking of self-defense strategies: re extinguisher can be used as a distraction and as a weapon, text books can be thrown as weapons, desks can be shields and barricades, and so on. I have the following thoughts running through my head: I need all my students tucked into the corner farthest from the door. I need to be able to protect my students at all costs. I need to be there for my children. I need to be able to take my granddaughter to karate lessons. I need to protect my students at all costs. I need to be ready to take a bullet for my students.
Somehow, I was able to hold in the building panic attack until the lockdown was li ed and students le my classroom. Once they were gone, though, I was in the midst of one of the worst panic episodes I have ever had. I end up going to the o ce to try to nd some support. My amazing assistant principal put me in her o ce, where I threw up in her trash can. Anxiety is horrible. Needless to say, she sent me home after I had calmed down enough to be able to drive.
When rst responders sign up for the job, they know there is a chance their job could end their life. It is understood. Having also worked in law enforcement and lost a friend and co-worker, those funerals are brutal. However, as brutal as they are, they go into the job knowing that could be an outcome.
Teachers don’t go into teaching with that understanding. We go into teaching to teach and inspire upcoming generations.
Back in real time. I have had ... I don’t know how many glasses of wine. And am only now feeling like I can relax. Teachers were never supposed to work this hard and have this much anxiety about doing our job. With each additional school shooting, I am closer and closer to nding a di erent career. e only thing holding me here are my students that I love.
We need to do better.
Brandy Pomeroy Agua Dulce