drill

We have a dry sense of humor at our school. The code for a serious threat entering the building is actually kind of funny in a non-threat situation.

During our writing lesson today, the code came over the intercom. Usually we have an idea when a drill is coming and I hadn't heard anything.

I had everyone squish into the corner of our classroom. I closed the door, shut off the lights, grabbed my phone, and closed one blind out of five -- evidence of my clear thinking.

As I whispered to tell all of my kids what I was going on, I had to consciously fix my face, relax my shoulders. I had to remind myself that during fire drills, I always tell them to look at me and if I don't look scared, then there is nothing to worry about. My door doesn't lock. Our only hope in a real situation is that we are quiet and hidden and the perpetrator doesn't try the door. I moved the portable whiteboard in front of us. I crouched and thought about how truly helpless we would be.

It was an unpleasant five minutes, but I'm so glad it happened. I needed to know what it would feel like to be responsible for 22 lives, so that if something ever happens the magnitude of the feeling won't surprise me.