10 Years Later

I woke up this morning and fumbled around for my clothes and my keys in a lame attempt to get to work on time. I wasn't really conscious of the date or time or what color socks I'd put on. While listening to Matt Lauer interview yet another auto industry or GE executive and another "But when is this recession going to bottom out?" I whined a little to my husband. "But I don't waaaaaaaaaaant to go to work today! I need one more day oooooooooooooofffff!!!" Then the headlines on the news switched gears and I was nearly alarmed to find out that the Columbine High School tragedy occurred 10 years ago today.


Has it really been 10 years later? I can hardly believe it. It seems like it was mere moments ago that I was sitting in 9th grade English class when another teacher came into the room and turned on the television without saying a word. From that moment on, school safety was forever changed.


I went home that afternoon and got the tightest hug my mother has ever given me, even tighter than when I disappeared from her side while at the shopping mall 4 years earlier. I could tell she'd been crying for the parents who said goodbye to their kids for the last time just hours earlier.


At first I was numb to the news. There had been school shootings before this. It wasn't the first time someone had walked into a school with a handgun and a grudge to uphold. Columbine was different. It was haunting. It was stunning. I still remember watching the news that night and watching the footage over and over again. Kids running out of the building in organized lines, hands on their heads. SWAT teams running in, guns at the ready while students huddled against the building praying they weren't next. It didn't seem possble. How were schools now at risk? Kids were supposed to be safer in schools than in their own homes. How had years of paperwork and permission slips and red tape failed us?


The kneejerk reaction afterwards was to make schools safer by installing metal detectors and placing cops all over the place. "This will send the message that we mean business." But like most kids, I didn't really feel safer. Seeing cops patroling our campuses and metal detectors everywhere made me feel like everyone was a victim, that anyone was capable of exacting revenge on anyone they hated. The real change took place slowly after we had time to heal, but not before more school shootings took place.


In a sick way, I identified, for a few moments anyway, with the killers. Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold; we'll never forget their names. As a student in elementary school I was teased mericlessly day after day. That's not even close to an exaggeration, and I wish like hell it was. I was teased for everything...being too smart, too thin, too weird looking, not having the best clothes, having to wear braces, reading too much, failing a math quiz, not being athletic, not knowing what was new on TV or on the radio...one day in January, I was leaving school after band practice and was jumped from behind by 3 boys in my class. They knocked my on the ground and kicked me and threw snow and ice at me. The whole ordeal only lasted about 5 minutes, but it made me hate them. I truly hated them. I wanted to hurt them physically and emotionally the way they had hurt me. There were no witnesses, and our principal wasn't any kind of disciplinarian so the ordeal was forgotten. But I never forgot and I doubt I ever will. I still look behind me when I'm walking in the snow. I still have an occassional flashback. I can't even imagine if my ordeal had been that of the Columbine students. Every car backfiring, every kid who even somewhat resembled the shooters, every April 20th, they remember. Everytime they return to their high school for a reunion or visit home. Everytime someone asks, "So where'd you go to high school?"

Their healing took years, and for some I imagine it's still happening. Some of them were my age that day. Some of them will never forget the choices they made...lunch in the cafeteria, you live. Lunch in the library, you die. Memorials and services help bring closure, but I bet there's not a day that goes by that they don't remember. Columbine has not defined them, but it changed them.

Today, Columbine has become an adjective. Virginia Tech was described as a "Columbine-style" shooting. The disturbed young man who demoted Columbine as 'The Worst School Shooting in History' praised the Klebold and Harris as "martyrs" for the belittled and disturbed. As much as I hate to write it, Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris got exactly what they wanted: remembrance. When you think about it, most killers are remembered, and the victims are forgotten by society at large; they fade away, shadowed by the angry faces and words of their killers. Think about it: name one of Jack the Ripper's victims, if you can. John Wayne Gacy? The Oklahoma City bombing victims? Their killers are remembered by name and face. Their faces we can't forget...blank and cold stares, locked jaws, and eyes that cut you to the core even after their death.

Today, Columbine High School was closed. I wonder what the true point of taking a day off to remember the 13 dead these 10 years. The youngest students attending today were 4 and 5 years old that day. They have no memory of Columbine, and most likely brief, fleeting memories of 9/11. They have grown up in a world where metal detectors and random bag searches are a fact of life. They have no idea what we lost ten years ago today. Those students who died, that teacher, are nothing more than names on a wall. Surely there are community members and teachers who remember, but to the current students of Columbine High School today is just a day off.

Ten years ago, my high school had no clue how to handle the aftermath of Columbine, even from hundreds of miles away. We were confused and sad and terrified that an angry girl could exact the same type of disaster with a handgun. There were no grief counselors, no therapy sessions. We wore blue and white ribbons to remember the victims but that didn't help our confusion. We looked to our teachers and parents for answers but they had just as many questions as we did. No one really understood what happened. The immediate response was to try and combat bullying and reach out to those "loners". It was almost as though school administrators assumed that each loner felt the same way and was planning a similar attack on their school. Any student who had ever been depressed, sad, angry, left out, etc. was pulled out of class and asked "How are you feeling today?" Sure, it was a start, even if it wasn't the best place to start. But after Columbine, where did you start? We had to start somewhere as we tried to make sense of it all.

Being on the other side of the desk, I can only imagine how my teachers felt that day and on the day of Virginia Tech. They were just as scared as we were. Sure teachers can be cranky and sure we can grade unfairly sometimes and we can nitpick and ride a kid hard, but we're not doing it to be an a-hole. Imagine being Eric Harris' History teacher, who perhaps bugged him one time too many. You were next, he just killed himself before he got to you. Whenever something happens...a death, a surprise, a sudden outburst...students look to their teachers, literally. Thirty pairs of eyes stare at you, asking, "Now what do we do?" The truth is, we're not trained to handle something like this, big or small. There's no manual for what to do when a gunman enters your school or your classroom, and if there was you wouldn't read it anyway. Teachers are just as clueless as those they teach, they're just a little better at hiding their surprise and fear.

Today, schools have evacuation plans for fires, thanks to Our Lady of the Angels. We have tornado drills. And now we have Intruder Plans in case someone enters the building. Just like the good old days, students are trained to crouch under their desks during a drill, except it's not during the air raid sirens. Twice a year we practice what to do when we hear, "Mr. Green, would you please come to the office?" over the intercoms. During the drills kids laugh and giggle just like they do durind a fire drill. "That won't happen here. That won't happen to us." OLA was 50 years ago, Columbine was 10, and Virginia Tech and NIU were college shootings. There's no reason to think that could happen to them.

What we lost 10 years ago was more than 13 (15) young lives. We lost our sense of security. We lost our school safety. On April 20th, 1999, we all walked into school safe and unaware. On April 21st, we entered scared and confused and unsure of one another. We eyed each other sideways and wondered if this kid was capable of the same kind of rage that took 13 lives. We lost our trust in one another and our trust in the system. We lost the ability to walk into a building and not be subject to a metal detector or bag search. Sometimes I wonder about bringing a child into this world. How will I be able to explain Columbine and Virginia Tech and NIU so they know exactly how tragic they were? How will I be able to tell them that I still cry and I still get chills? How will I be able to explain that when they leave the confines of my car I'll want to reach out and take them back, afraid for their safety? I'll get an eyeroll and a "Sheesh, lighten up, will you?!" (because they'll be paying back the childhood karma I so eagerly sowed) and I'll have to let go and pray that their generation will get it right because mine could not.

Columbine, Oklahoma City, NIU, 9/11, Virginia Tech.....all events that will be ancient history to my kids. I'll never be able to explain the fear and confusion we felt those days. They'll never know what we lost and they'll never know a world where Columbine doesn't mean "massacre". In the same way I've never known a world without fire drills and tornado drills, I suppose. I remember my dad telling me about OLA and the pale, sad expression that crossed his face. I could tell that it was something horrible and sad, but when he told me it was in 1958, I brushed it off as ancient history. I never thought about the hug my dad got from his mother when he got home from school that day. I never thought about my dad being a scared little boy walking into school afraid he'd be burned to death before the bell rang. I never thought that such a traumatic event would affect my dad so much that he chose a career in public safety so he could help save those in danger. Did Columbine shape me? Did Columbine decide my fate as a teacher, even from hundreds of miles away? Is Columbine my OLA?

A few years ago, my family and I traveled to Colorado. I can't remember why we were driving around, but somehow we ended up in Littleton and drove right past Columbine High School. It was July and the sun was setting. It was so peaceful and quiet. The building was dark. It was two years later, before 9/11 and before our world changed again. It was so strange. In a million years, I never would have suspected that this beautiful building filled with white bread and suburban families would have been the scene of such a horrific tragedy. The campus was pristine and I'm not sure why but I expected something more, even 2 years after the fact. The only pictures of Columbine I had ever seen involved terrified students and a SWAT team. I guess it's kind of like seeing a nun without her veil--you know in your head that the visions you have are a little muddled and not quite clear, but when you see the truth you're more than surprised.

On that quiet, warm night in Littleton, I felt a little chill. I couldn't believe that I was looking at the same place I'd seen on TV for weeks and weeks. It was silent and empty. It was nothing like I expected. It wasn't something I was ready to see. It had been 2 years, but it still wasn't resolved. No one had anymore answers than they did on April 21st, 1999. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.

Today, more than anyone else, I am praying for Dylan and Eric's families. While Dylan and Eric killed 13 innocent people, their families lost a beloved child as well. Not only that, but they have to live knowing that their child hurt so much that they had to make others hurt as well. They have different memories of the cold, unflinching young men we see on surveilance tape. They remember small fingers and toes on the day they were born and a smiling, happy toddler. They remember young boys who gave them hugs and kisses each day. The rest of the nation remembers two cold-hearted young men, and they remember two beautiful baby boys.

We lost a lot that day, and we've lost more since then. In trying to make our world and our schools a safer place we've lost our confidence and trust in one another. We've lost the safety that comes with schools. We've put all our faith in paperwork and surveilance cameras and grief counselors. We keep hoping another generation will make it better. I don't know that we are, but we keep trying. Maybe we do it in memory of the fallen, maybe we do it for ourselves. I don't know that it matters, but education is our best tool. Maybe repetition IS key. Maybe if we keep reminding one another what happened and what we lost, it will finally stop happening.

Bad News

It's not totally what you think. I found out over the weekend that my boss's husband was very ill. He's been sick for a number of years, and around this time last year got very sick. My boss was pretty much absent for the rest of the school year. I was surprised to hear that he took a sudden turn over the weekend and I found out this morning that he passed away last night.

Of course my thoughts and prayers are with my boss and her family at this time, and my boss is out of the office until further notice. I'm so sorry for her loss. I can't imagine losing your partner of 30+ years, no matter how long they've been ill.

Personally, I'm frustrated. I was supposed to be finding out--right now, actually--if I had a job for the coming year or not. I feel bad and selfish, because I know my boss would be here if she could. I know that she's not bailing on us--she's got the best/worst reason for not being here today and this week. I just hate not knowing one way or the other.

Today has just been a crazy and long day already. I'm not looking forward to a week of this if this is how it's gonna be! I had forgotten how crazy the last weeks of school are. There are only 7 weeks left, but in actuality it's 5. Our grades are due about a week and a half before the end of the year, so I feel kind of like a babysitter at the very end. I wish that we could turn our grades in after the last day of school so all the behavior and wrap-up work would count for something.

On top of all the bad news about my boss, I paired up kids in 7th grade for a project, and two boys I paired up threw a minor tantrum. Seriously. It didn't hit me until a little later that they're both only children to the nth degree. In my opinion they're pretty spoiled and they do not share well. I paired them up because one is a little more focused than the other; the second student tends to sit and let his classmates do the work while he takes the credit. I figured it'd be a good exercise for them in learning to work with people they don't like. Unfortunately, they just weren't handling it well and they pitched a major fit and I couldn't even get through the rest of the partnerships.

I spoke with them privately and hated to do it but gave them an ultimatum: prove to me today that you can work well together or you wil be separated and will work alone in different classrooms until the project is finished. They had one chance to prove to me that they could work together. Surprisingly, they actually managed to work together, not terribly well but well enough for today. I'll still need to speak with one or two parents, I'm sure (yuck), but I probably won't have to make any calls for another few days.

In other news, I'd forgotten how neurotic 5th graders are. Holy Mother of Mercy!!! Every little thing is a big deal to them. Seriously. The 5th grade teacher sent 8 kids in to finish their reports; apparently she only wanted to send 6 but 2 extra came along for the party. One of the girls who said she was "one of the first six" just kept whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiining about it! "The teacher only sent six! There are eight people in here! The teacher only sent siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiix!" Holy moly. I'm slowly losing my patience for the small, silly stuff. If no one's bleeding, screaming, crying, being attacked by zombies, or being poked in the eye with a sharp implement, it's "NOT A BIG DEAL!" That's my mantra right now. I'm considering posting it at the front of my classroom just so everyone can understand that life isn't to be taken quite so seriously. Chill, man...you'll get your eraser back momentarily.

Dealing with Death

This is never an easy topic to address with a class, especially when it hits home. In the fall semester, one of our 8th grade girls lost her mother after a long illness. While her class always knew it was a possibility, the reality of the event and the shock of grief was felt for weeks after. Just today we found out that one of our 6th grade girls lost her father over the weekend--murdered at gunpoint during a robbery. Awful. Truly, truly awful. How do we address it when we as cleverly disguised and responsible adults don't even know how to comprehend it?

The hardest part comes in telling the kids. You have just gotten the worst news a teacher could possibly have to give his or her class, and now you have to figure out a way to tell a group of kids who are looking to you for cues on how to react.



Older kids will generally react however they feel they should. For example, in the case of the 8th grade student I mentioned, her close friends grieved and cried because they were close to the situation. Classmates felt sorry and acted awkwardly: signed cards with awkward messages, gave her sad, awkward smiles when she returned to school, and basically treated her like normal when they felt they could. Few people spoke to her as openly as her close friends, almost like they were afraid she'd break or cry if they said the wrong thing.

As a general rule girls show more emotion than boys. Junior high boys are "tough" and don't show signs of weakness if they can help it. In my opinion it's one part socialization, one part self-consciousness, and one part cluelessness.

Telling a group of kids some really bad news can also be dictated by your principal. My old boss preferred the teachers to deliver the bad news, my current boss usually tells the class with the teacher in the room. My old boss also didn't think it was appropriate to show much emotion in front of your class--preferred to keep the teacher/student barrier at all times, especially in moments of weakness and didn't think it was appropriate to let students see you "weak" or crying. I think that it's okay for students to see some emotion from their teacher. I'm not talking flat out bawling and screaming on the floor, but it's emotional to lose anyone, let alone a parent who might be involved in coaching or leading activities at the school. Particularly if said student is a great kid--great grades, popular, involved, respectful. That means parent-teacher conferences are always positive and filled with more "How are you doing" and less "Your kid needs to turn in more of her work." It can be tough for teachers to lose that parent and partner in education as well.

I don't really have "advice" per say. The best I can give is to deal with it by reading your class. Even if the student dealing with grief isn't popular or always on the good side of the principal, every student will have a response and will feel something for the student. It's important to make sure the students know what happened, but not necessarily all the details. You don't want them to be so caught up in "what happened" that they forget a friend is hurting. Remind the students that their friend will need all the friendship she can get upon her return to school. Not necessarily overwhelm her with hugs and "How are yous" but to remember that if she's not her normal self they shouldn't be offended. For the student who lost a parent, she may be glad for a return to normalcy and a schedule. By going to science class she can forget for a few minutes that her world has been forever changed.

In my experience it's important to let the students talk about it if they need to. While you are confused and upset, so are they, and even moreso. Adults can be upset and confused and say, "Gosh life is so unfair." Students don't recognize the gray area of life and will demand to know why and how. They'll want and need to talk to get their emotions sorted out. When a student is out due to a death in the family is probably one of the best times to talk it out. When a student returns after such an ordeal it's time for healing and returning to whatever is closest to normal. Even sharing memories and remembering the good things about the deceased is a step in the right direction.



However, talking about it too much can hurt. Students can't spend the whole day in class talking about their grief. Generally, the state and/or school district frowns on that because it takes away from test preparation (sad as that is). Giving students the outlet to talk is great, but make sure to pull in those discussions and transition into another topic. It's awkward and sometimes unwanted, but eventually you'll talk yourselves into a circle. In my opinion, a change of subject or venue allows students a little time to process and they can work through their grief a little at a time instead of all at once.

Counselors, for anyone, are a great resource. Even students who don't normally see a counselor can benefit from talking to someone far more versed in this subject than I am.

If your school allows, attending a funeral service for the family is a beautiful gesture. Since I work at a Catholic school, we are fortunate enough to have a church attached to our school. The 8th grade attended their classmate's mother's funeral service earlier this year, and while she couldn't or didn't thank each student personally, it was (I'm assuming) comforting to her to have friends present during a difficult time.


It's also helpful for a class and for the grieving student to make and send a card for the family. Students have the chance to write down what they need to say, and even if the grieving student hasn't yet returned to school, it's helpful and positive for them to know that their class is thinking of them at this difficult time. It might be hard for them to read at first and if they don't say thank you it's nothing personal. It's hard to say "thanks for being there" when you've gone through something traumatic, especially when you're young.



This is a really general post and not overly specific. I'm trying to protect the anonymity of my students while also sharing stories of what worked for us and what didn't. It's always different for every school and every student. It's also important to note that I'm still learning on the job everyday. Hopefully we don't need to deal with this for quite some time. Also, there's no guarantee that all these strategies that worked for us will work again. If anyone new to teaching reads this, hopefully it offers some tips and insight into handling death within your classroom.