This is NOT supernatural related whatsoever. this is my feelings (and anxiety) about what happened at my school during a bomb threat. This could be very triggering to some people. America is training children to search for exits, and to time how long it will take for kids to run to cars. It is teaching kids that a bomb threat or fire drill is makings them easy targets for shooters. It is training them to protect their heads during drills and making kids think of textbooks, pencils, bookbags, computers, and notebooks as weapons of defense.
change needs to happen.
Today, over notes about the Abolitionist movement, the familiar ring of the announcements turning on filled the school. "Teachers and Staff. Take your students outside immediately. We are under a code white." My hand dove into my bookbag for my keys. I grabbed my phone, leaving my notebook opened. Administration was yelling for us to go, this was real. We all filed into our spots, standing close to the fence to look at what was happening. Forced to the back of the field, pushing us further from the building. I was nervous. But not scared.
I hear sirens surround our school and a blur of blue lights turning into our carline. My heart dropped. I texted my friend "I love you" and the same with my mother. I asked in our groupchat where everyone was in case things went south. More sirens. More blue lights. 6 sheriffs that I have counted, over a dozen undercover police pouring in. I spot my best friend, making a beeline for her. Someone shouted at me, asking if I was okay. I'm sure my face was white. We sit, discussing how warm it is, and how our fancy pens are inside. Deep down we're nervous. My best friend and I are checking in with our friends. "I love you so much." It is the first time one of her friends have ever said that to her. Now I am scared.
As I think about hearing sirens rush into our school parking lot, I wonder what would happen if we were on a code blue. Would it carry more than just police? Would there be ambulances, will there be firetrucks? Would there be people jumping from windows? Running for their lives? This is not the proper learning environment. I am afraid. I think back to my freshman year when I was standing with my hands against the wall while the police searched us for bullets. I think about all the times "code yellow" came over the intercom and we were afraid. I think back to my sophomore year where the same thing happened, the police weren't as intense in searching. I think about how the first Wednesday of my junior year, there was a shooting threat.
So as I hear the sirens coming to check to see if there is a bomb, I am trembling. I am afraid. This is not how I want to die. I think about the man who is checking my US history room. He sees my notes written in cursive, a lavender binder. I wonder if it breaks his heart. I wonder if he sees the tampons and pads shoved into girl's pocketbooks, or if he sees the overwhelming amount of food shoved it small compartments. I wonder if it breaks his heart.
We're filing into the gym now, my eyes scanning the exits. We're in the perfect spot for a shooting. My best friend is telling her dad that she's scared. She's telling her mom not to worry. She's crying now. I am telling my friends what row my car is on incase things so south. Why should I have to hold my best friend? Why is this happening? This is not how I want to die.
I think about having to drag my friends bloodied bodies into my car to escape a shooter. I think about the screams, and the sound of bullets ricocheting down the halls. I am thinking about how long it should take for my friends to get to my car from the position they are in if a gunman is in here. I'm thinking of how I will explain to my best friends dad what happened. This is not how I want to die.
We are being dismissed back to class now, I'm trying my best to keep my head down. My hands are still trembling. My best friend continues to shake throughout the day. In my 3rd block, I'm trying to do Algebra, my hands shaking too fast to type in the correct answers. I go home, my mind filled with what I would do if I lost my best friend, thinking about if we'd still have homework due if we had a real shooting. I'm not ready to die, not here, not now.
I am tired of being afraid.
