Imagine 27 10-year-olds huddled together in a corner on the floor of their classroom in almost complete darkness. Everyone’s ears are working overtime straining to hear any hint of an intruder presence on the other side of the door. Movement is restricted to darting eyes attempting to discern from formless darkness any sudden motion, a pathway of potential violence, the echo of a possible retreat.
This is what students experience during lockdown drills in my sixth-grade classroom. The first lock down drill of each year is announced in advance. We talk about what actions to take for safety. Students crowd into the corner of the classroom least likely to put them in the direct line of gunfire, assuming we manage to get the door locked in time, and the door actually holds. Getting 27 10-year-olds to sit in such close proximity to each other and be totally silent requires being explicit about behavior expectations and equally clear that not meeting expectations could cost lives. Learners quickly understand that the best defense that they have against someone who wishes to do them harm is to be as invisible as possible.
Unlike fire or earthquake drills where the absence of fire, smoke and quaking makes it obvious they are practicing a drill, lockdown drills leave participants uncertain. A perpetrator could be holding hostages and threatening violence so there would not be gunfire yet. Perhaps the attacker is walking through the building choosing the classroom they wish to commence shooting upon, again, no gunfire yet. These possibilities churn student and staff’s thoughts as we rally our energies in unison to achieve virtual invisibility. Lights go out, blinds come down, and stillness surrenders to wait in silent darkness.
Administrator release is a new rule; just in case a perpetrator is holding the office staff hostage and compels someone to announce an all clear signal under duress. It takes an administrator a long time to reach every classroom. One might think that waiting for an extended amount of time under these conditions would eventually invite poking, jabbing, giggling or other normal 10-year-old behavior. Maybe five years ago, but with each new horrific incident of school shootings that occurs in America there is proportionally less need to enlighten children about invisibility being their only current line of defense.
What I am afraid is closer to reality, if our lockdown was not a drill and gunfire rang out on the other side of our classroom door, is that giggling or whispers would not be the concern. Whimpers and wailing of desperately frightened children who tried, but failed to be invisible would alert an attacker of our presence.
Is the chance of a slim cloak of invisibility truly all we are willing give our children as their only hope against school violence? Adults of America must problem solve together to come up with better solutions to protect children from people who inexplicably choose innocent school students as targets for their hostility. Citizens must inform their state and federal representatives that this will not stand. If we want nationwide change each of us must take action.
Dorothy Schroeder is a resident of Monroe and a teacher in the Monroe School District.
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