Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time one of my kids have been on lockdown. Like the rest of American kids, they’ve been through this before. For us, thank God, it’s always been out of caution from the school, and nothing has ever happened. Scarlett already has a heightened sense of worry. I think part of it is her age but mostly it’s a part of her personality right now. She worries about the unknown. So, I knew she meant it when she said she was scared.
In the minute I had at that red light, I confirmed that the lockdown was just a precaution, and I tried to reassure her that everything was going to be ok.
When she followed up with those three words, it didn’t matter that this lockdown was out of an abundance of caution. It didn’t matter that there was no clear threat. I started to break a little. Maybe part of it was because I’m pregnant and my hormones are heightened. But I also think it was because, on this day, it became too much. It was too soon after seeing….
That video
The night before, Vince had shown me body cam footage of a police officer that went into the school in Nashville. Those images and sounds are now burned into my mind. The coat cubbies with backpacks hanging and sweaters draped over hooks. The blurred image of a body on the floor in a pink shirt. The sound of the alarm roaring through the school as the police officers followed the sound of the gunshots. The moment where they finally take down the murderer.
This was all fresh in my mind as I read my 11-year-old daughter’s text to me, and I broke. She was afraid. I was afraid…and angry…and worst of all, powerless.
I can’t be driving
In the flurry of emotions, the light had turned from red and to green and I had been forced to merge on to the highway. Not good. I had rage and fear bubbling up in my throat and tears beginning to stream down my face. My hands started to shake. I needed to get off the road. I needed two minutes to gather myself back together. This wasn’t going to help the situation, but I needed to let these emotions out. Restraining them would only make it worse.
My 16-year-old daughter Gianna would have been oblivious to my breakdown if I didn’t ask her to hold my smoothie as I tearfully navigated the 1 mile stretch of highway before the rest area exit. She sat silent, observing me, and accepting my excuse for the moment that I was having a stressed-out moment and needed to get off the road. I am pregnant after all.
Once parked, she asked me what was wrong. This wasn’t normal behavior for me.
I thought for a split-second about protecting her. I thought about saying I read a sad story on my phone and my preggo hormones were raging. Silly mom.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t. Maybe I should have. Maybe I should have shielded her from this part of parenting for now. The fear of helplessness. But she knows more than most kids. She’s heard things. She saw the same video I did with the bodycam footage. She would understand.
So instead, I sat there and cried to my 16-year-old daughter. She saw her mother’s fear and anger. How gut-wrenching it can be to think that one of your babies could be in danger and there’s nothing you can do about it. How fucked up this world is that kids must worry about this in school. How scared Scarlett was feeling as she was locked in that room not knowing what was happening while she sat safe in the car next to her mother.
After the tears were done, I felt better. I looked over at Gianna and her eyes were red. We didn’t come up with a solution sitting in that car off the side of interstate 75. But we both agreed that this is awful. It’s not right.
Can we just do SOMETHING?
Listen, I’m not a policy maker. I’m not an expert. But all I know is SOMETHING HAS TO CHANGE. We can’t keep sitting here doing nothing. Letting politics and money get in the way. I’m not going to pretend to think I know the exact RIGHT solution for this issue that is continuously killing kids on an insane loop. It’s NOT MY JOB to figure this out. But I do know that the back and forth, the indecisiveness, the passing of the blame on what the true problem is for why school shootings and lockdowns are now the norm, is not helping.
Why is NOTHING CHANGING? Just do SOMETHING. Try it out. Split the fucking country in half and enact a law on one side and see if it helps. That’s how they test things in science. I don’t know. All I know is that we need to adapt and grow as a species to survive. Not roll over like a damn dog and submit to “the norm.” We need to change this pattern. Because this can’t continue. We can’t accept this. Not when it doesn’t have to be the way kids grow up. The way parents must live with the constant humming fear from August-June while their kids attend school. We aren’t getting it right and other places are. How is that not ENOUGH to take action and change?!
Home
Scarlett ended up spending the entire day at school, secluded in the same classroom even after the lockdown ended. When I picked her up, she told me about her day. Mostly she agonized over the boredom of being locked in the same class (her least favorite) and how lunch was pushed back hours. But she also told me about her fear. Of hearing the preschoolers on the floor below, crying during the initial moments of the lockdown. Of hearing running footsteps outside the locked door – rationalizing that they were the sounds of students hurrying back to their classrooms and not something more sinister. Those little details pulled at my heart again.
In total, about 500 students were picked up from the school that day after the lockdown was lifted. I thought about picking her up too. But she didn’t ask me to, and I didn’t want to place more fear in her. I didn’t want to be irrational. Unless she becomes homeschooled, she will have to go back. The suspicious phone call the school received that day asking about the security measures and number of armed officers present could have been innocuous. Nothing could happen, ever.
But something could happen, someday. I have no way of predicting what day could be the day I later always regret. I just wish this wasn’t the way of life right now.
Parenting books don’t teach you how to deal with this. And God-dammit, they shouldn’t have to.