I walked into my school last Sunday to prepare for the week. Sure, it was Sunday, but many teachers go to their classrooms that day to prepare for their week in the peace and quiet.
But it was different.
I noticed other cars in the parking lot, but I wasn’t in the mood to chat. Even though I am the chatting QUEEN, and love my new team, I just didn't have it in me. And frankly, neither did they.
I walked down the long hallway, noticing the eerie quiet of the school. I turned the lights on in my room and sat at my work-table. I had things to do to prepare for the teddy bear cottage activity planned for Monday morning, and got right to it. I glued the milk cartons to the plates, and when I was done I sat quietly at my table.
I found myself glancing around the room, thinking about where I could hide my children if we were attacked. The closets were full, and I didn’t have access to a bathroom. I looked anxiously for places to hide them, but most were obvious choices and not going to fool anyone with an agenda. Then, I glanced at my windows. I realized that I could throw chairs through the windows and toss the children out like bags of laundry. Until I realized that the windows opened easily, and I could simply pop the screens out. It made me smile a bit to think of the easier option.
And then reality set in.
Bullets don’t wait for you to toss twenty children out a window.
And I grabbed the box of tissues, and wiped the tears.