Hard Lockdown

DAY SPENT UNDER MY DESK by: Sofia Gonzalez

I guess you can say the day was nothing short of normal; at first. On December 10th, I woke up, started my coffee, read some and journaled some, washed up, grabbed my things and dashed.

That day was a half-day, so classes were flying. I had no kids in my room yet, was alone when it all went down.
 The intercom jerked us with a sudden: "Teachers and staff, this is a hard lockdown, there is an intruder in the building."

My head almost swung off like a swivel. Trained to check the halls for any students, I dart to the door, my feet elevated in a panic. I see my colleagues looking back and forth down the hallway, scanning for students. Administration slicing through the terror shouting, "This is not a drill, grab the kids and get inside now!"

The kids nearby went into other classrooms closer to the edge of the hallway, I was too far in the middle to run to me.
 I run back in, shut off the lights, follow another procedure and lock the door.

Desks shuffle.

Feet swiftly moving.

Doors slamming.


Then... the quiet.

I rush to my phone to start a prayer chain; also alerting my husband and parents.

So it began.

The prayer requests.


The tears.


The waiting.


The idleness.

The racing of thoughts and imagining the worst.

I ask the question to my loved ones, "Should I move the desks to barricade the door, or do I stay still?" It was a unanimous, "Stay still."

I quickly decide to use my podium as a shield to hide behind while using my desk to close me in on the right side. I stared at my surroundings, jaw dropped, eyes wide open. Then I closed them and cuffed my head in my hands. I took a picture of my position at that moment.

I wanted to remember it for a lot of reasons. It was a second or two of sheer winces of the soul, at the epicenter of an issue in education that makes my heart churn-and now I was in it to the extent that I was.

My mouth suddenly dries and tears begin to swell in the grooves of my eyes. 
My thoughts went dark like the room that enveloped me. The students, the staff, the children on the first floor-this can't be.


I had finally and fully embodied what students from across the country had faced head-on when intruders are in the building.

The dread.


The unknown.

The quiet hallways.

The anticipation of gunfire, and a turning of the doorknob.

I’m a huge advocate against gun violence and vehemently agree with gun reform and the desperate, no dire need for it.
I've held protest signs, declared myself a teacher against gun violence, used mass/school shooting prompts for my Sophomore and Junior classes. I took it to Washington and Atlanta; this message.


And. There. I. Was.


Right in the middle of it.


It was a holy moment.

I peered across my floor as my view climbed the walls that started preaching a sermon of a 1,000 words.

This was the actual image I sent to my prayer chains, realizing the severity of the scenario and the demand that arrested me.
I knew this was going to further the narrative of school safety, of this school shooting epidemic in our country spreading like Ebola or HIV.
 This can’t be our new normal.

Minutes turned to hours.


Friends and family were doing their best to keep me calm, centered in my faith.
Helicopters and police presence encapsulated the area, saturating blocks worth of territory. Googling news coverage, we became breaking news. We. Wow, what a sobering thought.

Allegedly, a student was identified to have a weapon in the building... that was enough to send us in a HARD lockdown. Protocol kicked in immediately; swift action taken. 
My students and former students began reaching out to me, voicing their concerns. In my fear, I told them to stay calm, and the prayer is we will be ok.
Over two hours later, we received word that we can exit the building.

The threat was dissolved.
We were sent for by police, administration, and our superintendent. Door to door, they came for us. 
Relief washed over me like the waves I experienced in Puerto Rico's ocean shore.
Walking out, I saw police officers with weapons so big and so military, I had never seen them up close before.

Triggers of trauma and panoramic footage shot through my brain waves, taking me back to school shooter footage I would scour to find after every incident that has happened within the last decade. Yet this time, it was MY footage, OUR school community's footage.
Spilling outside, we were speed walking, pouring into the streets, families huddled by the corner. Police cars double-parked, dispersed across a 5-mile radius.


Not sure how I made it to my car, but I did.


Spent the day under a desk.


Not going to forget this.


Nor, will I allow anyone else too.


This just blazed a trail.


This turned up my mic 2 decibels.


I was anointed at that moment like a soft whisper in my ear, "This is your story now. This just got personal."
 
 


Mrs. G- @mrsg_p214