1,677 Miles Away

Coming up on almost a year since my last post. Yikes. That explains what an insane year it has been - from starting back in person full time after 18 months of distance learning and hybrid learning, talking parents off the ledge around masking and support their student's mental health, testing and contact tracing through the winter months, talking teachers off the ledge and hopefully supporting kids in learning something along the way. 

Nope. None of those things really stopped me in my tracks and caused to pause and reflect. 

No thanks, no time. 

But this one. This one event hit me hard. This one had a big impact on my educator soul. 

I won't even get into the specifics or try and recap the tragedy that occurred at Robb Elementary in Uvalde, TX on Tuesday, May 24th. Much has been said around gun rights, school safety and the role education should take in protecting our kids from semi-automatic weapons entering our campuses. 

This is not that. 

This is a personal account and insight on how school massacres play into the lives of our students. Even students who live 1,677 miles away from Uvalde. 

On Wednesday morning, 5/25, I still did not have the words to email my staff about how to take care of our students coming to school, possibly upset about what happened the day prior. I'm not sure how many of my 5-12 year olds watch the news or how many families may have shared what happened in Uvalde. I sent whatever email I thought a principal should send the morning after such a tragedy - safe space for kids, stay positive, seek mental health support, reach out to our counselor, wordswordswords, blahblahblah. 

Still in shock myself, I really struggled to come up with the right thing to say. Goes without saying that every educator in every classroom or school in America has considered, "what would I do if someone came on campus and...? Where would I hide my kids? Or would we run?" Every.single.one.of.us. 

So, yeah, after this tragedy, I really had no words because the truth is, as the principal in charge of the safety of my staff and students, yes. There is a safety plan in place. Do I feel fully qualified to pull it off? Um. It's a scary feeling. 

This past Wednesday morning, after I sent out my robot-generated-who-has-taken-over-our-principals-brain email, I pasted a smile on my face and headed out to greet students at our before school Morning Walk. Smile, hug, fist bump - act like you can protect them from anything. Within 5 minutes, I had a 2nd grader come up to me and asked me if I heard what happened on the news. 

"No. What?"

"A bad guy brought a gun to school and killed a bunch of people."

"Oh, yes. I did hear about that. What do you think about that? How do you feel?"

"I'm scared and I don't want to be at school. My mom said when the shooter comes to my school, I have to know what to do." 

WHEN?! I'm sorry...WHEN!? 

I tried everything to calm this guy. Seriously. I threw everything I could at him about how I'm there to keep us all safe, this happened far away, this doesn't happen at every school...wordswordswords, blahblahblah. Big hug, connected with his teacher, off to class. 

Say it with me - DID (clap) NOT (clap) HELP (clap). 

A few minutes into class, I got a call from the same boy's teacher that he was still scared and now talking about what happened in Uvalde to other students in his class. Knowing I am many things, but not a crisis counselor, I called on my school psych for support. 

Together, we met with this 8 year old kid, processed his thinking and then provided concrete examples on how we prepare for all kinds of emergencies, like fires and dangerous people on campus. But just because we practice doesn't mean bad things will actually happen. 

He was still stuck on "WHEN it happens." Oof. 

With this concept, we really could not ease his mind. Since he had been talking to his peers, my pysch and I decided to do a quick circle with the class to process as much as we could in a group of 7 and 8 year olds, some who knew what happened and others who were just annoyed we interrupted them making their States of Matter cootie catchers (not even sure about the spelling on that one. Meh.)

Our 2nd grade Meeting

You guys. Together in total, we spent an hour and a half comforting a group of 18 seven and eight year olds on something that happened 1,677 miles away. 

My kids should be having fun with their friends on these last few days of school - making all the memories that come with finished curriculum, sweaty recesses and a perfect mix of anxiety and excitement going into the summer. These times should not be spent processing a tragedy that happened so far away, yet could be at our door at any moment. 

Something isn't right. 

Know that the impacts of such tragedies in Texas are felt in classrooms across our country. 

Know that the kids are paying attention. 

The kids know way more than we try to protect them from.

And I'm lying to them.
I'm saying I can keep them safe and protect them from any harm.