“Ms. Putorek,” one student shouted as soon as they walked in my third period class. “Are you going to walk out too?”
“Walk out where?”
“You know…outside…for the shooting.”
Wait. What?
“Uhhh…what are you talking about?”
Those were the words that sent me down a black hole of emotions – dismay, anger, dread, fear, exasperation, exhaustion and absolute frustration. My kids left the class. All but two walked outside for…well…no one could really say why exactly they walked out. But as they walked down the halls, my stomach did somersaults and twists and I tried not to get in my head. Nonetheless, I catapulted into my mind, where I was held hostage for about an hour.
You see, I haven’t been sleeping well since last week. I’ve had at least 3 nightmares involving vivid and detailed school shootings, and I know for a FACT I’m not the only teacher who has had to plan exactly what they would do if a gunman entered their classroom.
I know what my students would do, where I would be, what objects I would use as a shield and as a weapon – these weapons are school supplies and decorations in my room: staplers, scissors, old milky-glass chemical bottles from the high school’s chemistry lab (at the original Sheldon Clark), chemical sprays, and the biggest text books I could grab.
My weapons of choice probably wouldn’t be much against a military-grade assault rifle…let’s be honest.
However, in second period when my students asked me if I would carry a gun to school if it became legal, my answer was a firm “no.”
…pay me more for putting up with my wild 2nd period….
“Why, Ms. Putorek??? It could save you! AND US!”
“Guys…if I wanted to carry a gun and try to save other human beings, I would have been a police officer or a military person. I didn’t want to have that kind of responsibility, to be honest. Yet, here I am, planning what I would do to save your lives.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, really! I know where you would crouch and everything. Firing a gun to keep you safe just was never part of the plan. So…no thanks. Oh, by the way. The government won’t buy y’all pencils. They won’t buy you technology that you need, and they won’t fix my smart board. They certainly won’t be purchasing my handgun anytime soon, even if I wanted them to. So.”
The students looked at me with looks of confusion. They glanced at me out of the side of their eyes, and I’m not really sure what they thought about the fact that I wasn’t all too happy about having to take on a role of “protector” that I never signed up for.
Here’s the thing: when people find out I’m a teacher, they say things like “thank you so much for what you do,” “that can’t be easy…especially with everything happening in our world today,” and “you’re way braver than me.”
I’m not brave. Teaching isn’t supposed to be brave. It is most certainly important, necessary, and terribly challenging work. But I didn’t get into teaching because I’m brave, and I am really pissed off that my profession is now something lauded as courageous.
Damn, y’all.
I just want to help kids write poems. I want to read “To Kill a Mockingbird” and discuss themes and metaphors and prejudice. I want to listen to them create conspiracy theories about Boo Radley, and I want to help them articulate a really strong argument in favor of school uniforms. I can even manage the daily/weekly chats about the importance of mental health awareness and self-love.
You know what I don’t want to do?
I don’t want to jump every time someone knocks on my door. I don’t want to genuinely yelp when I hear loud noises in the hallway. I don’t want to feel sick every morning I wake up, fearing for my life and the lives of my students. (Did you notice I said MY life first? See? I told you I wasn’t brave. I’m actually incredible selfish, and very much afraid of having to dive in front of a kid a love, saving him or her from another kid I love who is aiming a gun at us).
If you’re still reading, I hope you won’t think I’m trying to get political. To me, what happened today isn’t about gun control: it’s about a child’s desire and right to feel safe at school. It’s also about me: the teacher people either hate or idolize. The teacher who “gets paid for only 9 months of work, and still expects more!” It’s about the fact that these students shouldn’t have to think about whether or not the day will bring another shooting/bomb threat or worse.
Prayer in schools won’t help, because the people who come ready to light it up aren’t really thinking about Jesus’ great sacrifice. Someone in their life, long before they came packing, already screwed up religion for them.
Smarter gun laws also won’t solve the problem…at least not entirely (though it FOR SURE can’t hurt to make sure people who buy assault rifles are mentally sound, and have to pass some sort of test and background check…and maybe have to be in the MILITARY..since it’s literally a weapon designated for war).
Obviously, most people are assuming it is a “mental health issue.” And they’re RIGHT…but it’s not just a severe shortage of school counselors that is fully to blame for these atrocities that just.keep.happening.
This crisis we are facing in our country is very, very complex. I’m not smart enough to even dive into the various obstacles and stigmas we must overcome to fix this problem for students, teachers, and the parents that send their kids to school every single day. I’m not smart enough to even pretend to understand the various obstacles we must overcome to fix this problem.
However, I still have to show up to a job that I (for the most part) absolutely adore, with students I would do anything for. I don’t say that lightly, because I truly believe if it came down to it, I would do everything within my power to protect them.
BUT I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO DIE TO PROTECT THEM. Does that make sense?
I believe I would die to protect them, but I don’t want to live in a world where that is okay.
My reflection was mostly a rant of frustration, specifically surrounding the walk-out today. I felt conflicted, because I know some students are genuinely terrified to be at school. I also know, however, that some students will use whatever excuse they can possibly come up with to get out of class – even if that excuse is 17 dead human beings who were massacred as they began to wrap up their school day.
“17 people are dead.
Even more if you count the school shootings already long forgotten. I remember the VT shooting – worrying about my cousin who went to school there at the time. I remember hearing about a Holocaust survivor who was killed while barricading the door of his classroom. He survived to move to America, HOME OF THE BRAVE, to teach at a prestigious engineering college, only to get slaughtered by a gunman. Home of the brave?
Now I’m a teacher, and I’m scared every single day for my students…for myself, for my coworkers, for my family.
But I show up anyways.
And now, today, here’s this walk-out. Why? What do you stand for, kids?
Because if you stand for time out of class or just for the fun of it, may I remind you that 17 people are dead?
If you want real change – fine. Walk out. Petition. Riot. Organize.
But if you’re searching for drama or excitement or some sick form of entertainment, MAY I REMIND YOU THAT 17 PEOPLE ARE DEAD?
This. Is. Not. A. Joke.
Action is fine – needed, even. But don’t you dare use these atrocities to justify your immature desire to skip 3rd period. Please. There’s too much at stake.”
One of the best parts of my jobs is obviously all the GOOD I get to witness in my students.
What has become impossible to ignore, however, is the constant fear and stress and frustration I’ve begun to notice almost daily. I have students writing poems about a society that does nothing to empower and inspire them, or, even more shockingly, makes them feel unsafe. These students are humans who feel fear. They know what intolerance looks like, and they certainly know what it means to be scared. Take a look below – those are words from a kid I LOVE. How is this okay?
People joke about “safe zones,” but hearing the way children speak to one another, and recognizing the magnitude of the news stories and societal “norms” they have been exposed to, I totally understand the need for these areas of safety.
…And if you’re someone who thinks kids being and feeling safe and valued is political, then we are NOT cut from the same cloth. (I almost said another curse word there, but felt like my anger and sadness shouldn’t make me curse again in this blog post).
So here’s what you can do, if you’re reading this.
Arm the teachers around you with a few things:
Goodness. I’m tired and sad, and hopeful that one day soon, my students and I won’t have to discuss the various items around my room we will use as shields. I’m excited for the day a slamming door won’t make me jump out of my shoes. I’m hopeful that tonight I will dream of happy endings for my kiddos, and not our funerals.
What do you stand for?
Halie
P.S. This meme spoke to me on a spiritual level.
haliewanders 