Category: changing the world

Tik-Tok Responds

There are some amazing creators on TikTok, and I hope it doesn’t go away. (That’s a whole ‘nother conversation.)

My inquisitive students ask great questions, and we do our best to investigate and seek information. If anyone tells me to “just teach,” I say, “Okay! Will do!”

This is still a work in progress, but it’s a start:

Google Slide Presentation Link

I spent an inordinate amount of time researching some of the far-right voices and finally gave up: the question is how they use dog whistles, propaganda, and rhetoric to influence their audiences? I know they do, and it’s well-documented, but I’ll be darned if it feels like chasing vapor. I know one, in particular, who is a master at stochastic terrorism. This is part of the ‘work’ in the progress.

If you find creators or a perfect Tik-Tok that responds to the following questions, please leave it in the comments:

  • Trans rights
  • Forced birthers and the fight against women’s rights, healthcare, and freedoms
  • Ways to be proactive and combat those who are stripping rights
  • Book banning
  • Wealth gaps, economy, and bad faith actors/capitalism

Series: White People Homework: Statues (13)

Take down the statues.

Bree Newsome climbed up a flagpole and took down the racist, Confederate flag of South Carolina in 2015. I was teaching 7th grade Humanities that year, and her actions were shared with my students.

Newsome’s move, for many, was nothing short of cathartic. Weeks before, white supremacist Dylann Roof gunned down nine parishioners and injured three more during Bible study at the Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, South Carolina. The day before Newsome climbed the flagpole, former President Barack Obama gave a moving eulogy for South Carolina state senator Rev. Clementa Pinckney, one of the shooting’s victims, in which he called for the removal of the Confederate flag from the statehouse grounds, describing it as “a reminder of systemic oppression and racial subjugation.”

https://www.vox.com/identities/2017/6/27/15880052/bree-newsome-south-carolinas-confederate-flag

Bree Newsome reflects on taking down South Carolina’s Confederate flag 2 years ago

The debate over whether or not to take down statues of the Confederacy began to heat up, and information and background history of when and why those statues were erected shared, but still the debate waged on. And nothing was done. We forgot about this work.

Just this past week, a mother of one of my favorite people, and she is a loving, Christian woman who is on his side, loves his bravery and voice, and shares his convictions, stepped out in one way –she believes the taking down of the statues is a form of censorship. Now, I am sensitive to the word ‘censorship.’ (This morning a colleague said, unequivocally, that “racist texts need and should be burned.” She didn’t cite specific works. She said it would be an anti-fa act. I said it is also a fascist act. One of the paradoxes of our times. But the book burning post is for another day.)

Instead of debating or making a case whether or not taking down statues is censorship, I had this epiphany this morning, and I am going to explore further. It came to me while listening to the news about Britain putting barricades around statues to protect them from protestors:

Statue Of Winston Churchill Is Covered Up In London

I do not know everything about history. I know quite little, actually, and this lack of knowledge affords me this opportunity to think about the statues and monuments I’ve encountered. If I see a statue of a man on horseback dressed in military gear, I assume he’s a famous person who has performed some act of bravery. The statue is shorthand and communicates an agreed-upon statement. If there is a statue of someone that means they did something worth getting a statue for. Right? I mean, we don’t honor horrible people, do we? We honor brave, kind, intelligent, worthy people who save lives, heal others, tell stories, or share a greater gift with the rest of humanity, right? There are statues that are works of art, fountains, monuments, that bring beauty and joy. But think: when looking at them, what assumptions do we make?

When we see Confederate military statues, or statues such as James Marion Sims, we assume heroic deeds. And that is where the true censorship happens. It happens when the voices of those enslaved, tortured, harmed, killed and exploited are silenced. The censorship happens when we don’t know whose land we’re on. And in the cruel legacy of Sims, medical students still think BIPOC don’t feel pain the same way white people do. Still. To THIS DAY. Or what treacherous and heinous acts they performed. If we do keep colonizers, slave owners, and religious zealots statues present, why not put up a huge sign that tells the whole story? Would you have known what Sims did if you just walked through the park, saw his statue, and went about your merry way? Or Columbus? Would you have known about the Taino he slaughtered? If we’re going to keep Christopher Columbus status should we put the hands of the slaughtered around his neck? And how is Georgia planning on blasting off Stone Mountain? (Look it up.) Because that one is large and horrifying.

Now, of course, I would prefer that the statues just come down. Go in a museum basement somewhere. Or melted down and made into beautiful bells and chimes. For every statue that’s taken down, if we need to replace them we have thousands waiting who truly did do wonderful things. Brave things. Acts of courage and generosity. People half-joke about putting up statues of Dolly Parton. What about Harriet Tubman? What about Ida B. Wells?

And I wouldn’t mind seeing his work in every city across this nation:

Kehinde Wiley, Rumors of War (2019). Patinated bronze with stone pedestal. Photo Travis Fullerton. Courtesy Virginia Museum of Fine Arts.

For further reading:

Monumental Error: Will New York City finally tear down a statue?

How the US Got So Many Confederate Monuments

What should replace Confederate monuments? See 4 ideas from New Orleans students

People Are In Love With These Kids’ Ideas For What To Replace Confederate Monuments With

Feed kids.

Why can’t we simply feed kids?

Within this past summer, I learned that Abraham Maslow’s work is based (derived/stolen) the Blackfoot Nation work. It’s funny because this blog post was written in 2014. Five years to learn about this?

From https://sa-exchange.ca/the-blackfoot-maslow-connection/

At a conference last week of the National Indian Child Welfare Association, I learned that Abraham Maslow, one of the founders of humanistic psychology, borrowed generously from the Blackfoot people to refine his motivational theory on the hierarchy of needs.
Briefly, Maslow’s theory suggests that humans are motivated to fulfill first the most basic of needs, such as food, clothing and shelter. Once those needs are met, they move on to the need for safety and security. The needs become progressive, advancing to love and intimacy and then self-esteem before reaching self-actualization. The highest level is where humans are self-aware and grow to achieve their individual potential.
“This is a rip-off from the Blackfoot nation,” University of Alberta professor Cindy Blackstock told her workshop audience on Wednesday.

https://lincolnmichel.wordpress.com/2014/04/19/maslows-hierarchy-connected-to-blackfoot-beliefs/

I am going to fumble my way through this, and welcome any corrections to my understanding of this philosophical shift: the group puts everyone’s sense of belonging to the community first, the foundation for the group, and then all other needs grow, reach to the sky, forever, from this. And in practical, pragmatic sense, this is true. We must recognize each other as here, life and living, and the food, water, air, shelter, love, grow from this foundation. Our individual potential comes first.

Let’s consider food: we all need to eat. Schools are filled with children, 18 and under, who do not have access to jobs, money, income, and are at the mercy of the compulsory educational system which demands their presence and attendance.

That should be the foundation of the culture of schools.

And then, in our country, we don’t feed them?

We shame. We deny. We judge. We withhold. We mock. We yell. We violate. But we do not simply feed them.

Oh, and if someone like Michelle Obama suggests that fresh fruits and vegetables be added to students’ choices, she’s disparaged through racism and evangelical evils. Because according to Trump-supporting evangelicals, only the wealthy deserve what they have. To be poor is a sin. And since Maslow altered his diagram for Westernized consumption, we have even failed at this. We don’t provide basic human needs. We don’t have clean water in our schools. Or food (unless you’ve filled out a tangle of bureaucratic paperwork and put on public record that you need assistance). We don’t have safe shelters. Look at the crumbling buildings many students attend every day. Self-actualized? It is all making sense now. We don’t want students to become self-actualized. And I say “we” because until every educators’ voice is speaking out and up, and pushing for legislation to change this, nothing will change.

Just feed kids.

Follow up to this story: https://www.cnn.com/2019/07/25/us/pennsylvania-lunch-debt-furor-apology/index.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2019/07/26/our-school-lunch-problem-is-microcosm-whats-wrong-with-american-life/?utm_term=.8ba2156e155d

Featured image from: https://recipes.howstuffworks.com/menus/who-decides-lunch-plans.htm

Kelly Love, Mermaid MD

How do we encourage and foster creativity in ourselves and others?

“I want to do a series of non-routine tasks, that require social intelligence, complex critical thinking, and creative problem-solving.”

well, well, well…how about we continue the conversation about ‘career and college ready?’ My mental pebble in my Sunday slippers is this concept of training students for ‘jobs that don’t exist yet.’ The jobs exist now. Right now. The problem is companies don’t want to pay for employees to ‘do a series of non-routine tasks.’ They don’t want to pay anyone at all. Wages have been stagnant for decades, and though the job market has grown and unemployment is low, skilled trade workers are hard to find.

My older son is sitting on a double major in Russian and German, with a minor in Math, and is thinking about becoming a teacher. My younger son is attending a community college and working weekends as a custodian for a local school district. I have no idea what the future holds for them because I have no idea what my and my husband’s future holds. It’s been…stressful. The social safety nets are ripped, and the Herculean task of moving toward healthcare uncoupling from jobs seems impossible, no matter what progressive politicians promise. Lobbies and corporate interests are monied monsters. In other words, I don’t know what my sons are going ‘to do’ with their degrees.

So how do I “sell” education’s value to a group of 13 and 14 year olds who are well aware climate change is real and dangerous conspiracy theories become factual lies? When we have a curriculum that teaches the test questions, and not a lot of ‘creative problem solving?’ I am thinking the answer is right in front of my nose: ask them. Just–ask them. Here is what we ‘have” to learn, now let’s seek out why, and how it helps us–and add what we ‘want’ to learn. John Oliver’s quote is going to be my mission statement for teaching and creativity.

I’ll share my 99 Problems document, and keep asking ‘What if?’ as if our lives and futures depend on it. (Because it does.)

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ccdytPCXW3LoZ2GhJmExp-QWhmYfVcBa2zsFM4LOjzY/edit?usp=sharing

Highly Qualified.

I hope my legs don’t break…walking on the moon

There is a question that is difficult to frame correctly, and even speak: are educators encouraged to be curious? To be investigators and scientists of our world? Moreover, what obligation to we have to ensure our students (within our intellectual and academic abilities) have access to the best education possible? And how do we define “best education?” Is it a willingness and acceptance of humility and reflective failures? To demonstrate acuity and mastery with rhetoric and logic?

(Thinks internally: get to the point.)

What if…

…a teacher who teaches world history only “believes” the world is 6,000 years old?

…a science teacher who “believes” in intelligent design theory or creationism?

….an English teacher who can’t explain the difference between Charles Dickens and a Hallmark holiday movie?

…supporter of STEM/STEAM but doesn’t think we went to the moon?

…or the world is flat?

…or a history teacher who believes Trump is helping our country?

…a science teacher who doesn’t understand how vaccines work?

…a counselor who doesn’t have access or the will to support gay, pregnant, homeless or other children in crisis? (And I have never met one of these types of counselors, lucky for them.)

…a referee who cuts off a child’s hair in a pique of openly displayed racism and hate?

…a teacher who puts his faith before a student’s identity?

…or a teacher who tries to call out racist culture and is targeted by the very hate groups he spoke against?

I mean — look! LOOK AT ALL THE COOL STUFF WE KNOW!

We, teachers, stumble constantly, there is no doubt about that. One of my favorite teacher-writers, Tom Rademacher, (@MrTomRad) uses a blend of humility and unapologetic know-how that provides many of us the comfort and discomfort that we may not always get it right, but dangit, we’re trying! Another one of my favorite teacher-writers is Mrs. Hall (@MrsHallScholars)

She uses her ‘warm demander’ voice — the gentle but urgent voice to encourage not only her lucky students but all of us who stand in her light. Think I’m being hyperbolic? Follow her and you’ll see what I mean.

Here’s what I’m wrestling with now: I am having a difficult time understanding how teachers/educators promote racism, ignorance, and don’t use facts, science, and reflection as part of their practice, no matter what they teach?

Bear with me while I work through this.

PS Why I chose some of the links: we are learning new things about new things all the time, and learning new things about old things, things we’ve done, researched, probed, analyzed, accomplished and litigated. It’s fine to have faith, beliefs, and abstract notions of beauty we cannot see. Carl Sagan was a master of straddling the gulf between science and power of belief. But please, please: be a thinker. Be curious. Be a questioner. Be a healthy skeptic. But please: be smart about it.

Perception is Truth. (Until it’s not.)

class

The faces are blurred to protect my students, of course. I wish I could share the unredacted photo: the students are relaxed, even laughing. Their body language is engaged, there are so many things you wouldn’t see. When I snapped the pic, one student told me I was “snitching” because he thought they were in trouble. They weren’t really engaged with the instruction, but only socially with each other. When I took the picture, it didn’t occur to me that it would look like another Barbecue Becky snapping a tattle-tale image to show to cops. When I ask them to sit in assigned seats, they refuse with protest, and perhaps it is the protest of all the systemic racism that makes kids of color forced into situations they have no control over, so any moment, however fraught with consequences, of regaining that control they will do the thin-slicing and risk it. I wear the face of that oppression.

And there is an undercurrent of hostility, and I must recognize my part in it. And I will do better.

The past two years have been two of the angriest, hostile and fear-ridden teaching environments in the Title I schools I’ve taught. Districts are turning away from helping children in poverty to focus on equity and restorative practices.

Are these bad? No, of course not. It’s good and important work, and due to a few incidents, one I am looking at reflectively and self-critically. I have found my own inner dialogue (and slightly outer tone) to be defensive and hurt. And after listening to a just-in-time “Teaching While White” podcast, I have come to some conclusions.

I don’t always get it right. In fact, I need to always, ALWAYS consider the optics from the students’ point of view.

Being an Ally: The Role of White Educators in Multicultural Education

Assumptions and Actions

By Elizabeth Denevi

I do not expect people of color to thank me or to acknowledge my antiracist work. I consider it my moral responsibility and will not look for validation from people of color. I am the one who benefits most from multiculturalism.

https://teachingwhilewhite.org/being-an-ally/

In other words, not only will I not get a ‘thank you’ –it’s not warranted, it’s excessive, and any criticism I receive must be absorbed quietly. It is my privilege and honor to work in a Title I school: I have always felt like the lucky one. Not a savior. Not a hero. But the beneficiary of sitting side by side with the world in my own backyard. And my beliefs have not been expressed in practice to some observers in my classroom this year–and perception is the truth. So if that is what others are seeing: that I am not equitable in practice, voice, or actions, then it is only I who can change.

However: that doesn’t mean that students don’t have some huge trauma and anger– and these past two years the fear levels continue to spike, and for good reason. Our nation is a mess. It’s under an authoritarian regime. Voters of color are being purged. We are in an apartheid state. S*** is real. And if my actions as a white teacher are doing any harm, I must repair.

From:

How America Became the Incredible and Jaw-Dropping Laughingstock of the World

What Happens When You Refuse to Join the World — and Tell the World to Join You in Collapse? by Umair Haque

But the world also didn’t quite understand that America couldn’t ratify many of these treaties. It was itself a segregated apartheid state. It only ended segregation in 1971. How could it sign treaties giving people equal rights — or be punished and disciplined by its peer nations — when it itself wasn’t ready to do so to its very own people? All people weren’t people in America — so how could America sign up to a world order that wanted all people to be people? Do you see the problem? The world was moving ahead, swiftly, with conviction, towards greater equality, freedom, and peace. But America was trapped by its past — not just unwilling, but politically and institutionally unable to join it. You can’t exactly ratify human rights for all if you’re making black people drink at separate water fountains.

The single most effective structure in my experience is the teacher-team model. The cross-content team works as a cohort to support each student: even if only a team of three, alongside common planning times, a cohort, when working collaboratively, helps find patterns and proactively create supports for students. It’s almost like an adult unified front: not punitive, but gentle, warmly demanding adults who clearly let each child and their parent(s) know they are there for support. The best teams include a mix of personalities, and overarching maturity allowing that not all students will equally like all teachers.

equity
Okay. So…little one doesn’t want to watch the game, the tall one hates baseball, and the middle one is on his fifth trip to the bathroom. But perhaps this is the best we can strive for now? Hmmm….

Why don’t more schools, especially middle schools, do this model? Well, I know it was abandoned at times under different administrators because they did not value it. I know it can be a scheduling issue. I believe this year my former middle school went back to the team model, and I am so happy for them, if not a bit jealous. On the plus side, my colleagues in my new building have reached out and we’ve been proactive and collaborative without a formal blessing from admin. But we work well together, and for that I’m grateful. Our goal is simple: we want students to be happy and learn.

(Pst, Admin: it truly, totally makes your life better when the front line of support, teachers, are there for students first.)

Which brings up a suspected reason: loss of control. Giving over control to cohorts of educators is too scary.

Are you exhausted from living in fear? I am. Perhaps I can bring this up to the #cleartheair community–what is the plan for us educators from a variety of backgrounds to heal our communities? We are telling the truth while trying to create a new narrative. Meritocracy is garbage, and we all need to recognize that.

I can’t do this work alone, in isolation. No more fear.

Reading List Suggestions:


Open your eyes.

“They’re afraid women will laugh at them,” he said. … At core, men are afraid women will laugh at them, while at core, women are afraid men will kill them.”. –attributed to Margaret Atwood

It’s okay to be scared and feel hopeless. Just not all the time.

Please: do not tell me the story of how you’re a responsible gun owner. I don’t care. What I would rather hear is how you will raise a good human, never say words like “Be a man” or “Boys will be boys.”

Tell me how you encourage your children and grandchildren to vote. To think critically about consequences of their actions. To value life.

Tell me how you raised your daughters to be independent, and your sons knowing that they were not entitled to love. That everyone gets their heart broken. And hearts can be mended. But death is final.

And that temporary rage and pain can be healed with love.

And to all children: any group that beckons you to belong that involves hurting others is evil.

When will we learn that to raise someone up does not mean to put someone down? Encouraging our daughters to move into STEM/STEAM careers does not push our sons out. If anything, our sons can and should move more freely through the world. Our world.

Understand that masculine toxicity exists. It’s a scourge. Our boys and young men are stewing in this sludge.

When I wrote this last October–well——now will you listen?

When a young adolescent male is sitting in a constant bombardment what images and messages, as sophisticated as any terrorist interrogator and brainwashing system, how can we possibly expect any other outcome?

There are complex and confounding factors, compounded by a deadly list:

  • Easy access to guns.
  • Parents who raise their sons with toxic abuse of all manner: modeling what a “man” is through intimidation, fiscal control, entitlement, and dogma.
  • Citizens unwilling to hold their politicians accountable because they have been fed nauseating lies.

But we can’t wait for parents to do the right things. We can’t expect them to lock up their guns, or not have them at all, or to teach their children that hate groups are blind rage and destruction personified.

Perhaps we, educators and others, must play this role–teach children that they are loved, and welcomed, and included.

But they are not entitled to someone else’s life.

Rebecca Solnit: Whose Story 
(and Country) Is This?

This misdistribution of sympathy is epidemic. The New York Times called the man with a domestic-violence history who in 2015 shot up the Colorado Springs Planned Parenthood, killing three parents of young children, “a gentle loner.” And then when the bomber who had been terrorizing Austin, TX, last month was finally caught, journalists at the newspaper interviewed his family and friends and let their positive descriptions stand as though they were more valid than the fact he was an extremist and a terrorist who set out to kill and terrorize black people in a particularly vicious and cowardly way. He was a “quiet, ‘nerdy’ young man who came from ‘a tight-knit, godly family,” the Times let us know in a tweet, while the Washington Post’s headline noted he was “frustrated with his life,” which is true of millions of young people around the world who don’t get this pity party and also don’t become terrorists.

But we cannot allow ourselves to despair.

To falsely equivocate, stating “not my son!” Not all boys!

We can turn this tide.

We have young men such as David Hogg and young women such as Emma Gonzalez.

David Hogg Rallies People to Vote in the 2018 Midterms in Powerful March for Our Lives Speech

If gun deaths were a disease, we would be vaccinating our children, demanding medical interventions, and doing everything in our power to save them. And yet–in our nation–the idea of gun ownership trumps our common sense logic and instincts to protect and love our children:

Tackle this issue as we would anything that threatens our children, including some gun owners’ insane fetishizing of the Second Amendment.

Amplify the messages of their peers that are positive. Hopeful. And empowered.

Call your representatives in the House and Senate. Change your mind. Do the right thing.

red t raccoon

Postscript: Hate starts young.

What do you say to a four-year-old white supremacist?

Let’s start with love from the start.

If you ever think for one moment taking away guns isn’t the answer, read this.

The longest day of my life
 
 
As my daughter finally sleeps, I no longer can keep the tears from falling. We see / hear about these tragedies through a TV screen once removed. While we grieve with and for the families, we truly have no idea what they are experiencing.
The outpouring of prayers and love from across the country have been very much appreciated by our family. And for those saying that sending prayers means nothing, all I can say is STFU! You have no idea how much it meant to us today knowing we were not alone in praying for our child.
I’ve talked to some people today and then had to shut my phone off as it became too overwhelming. But, I think it’s important for people to hear these stories and truly understand the impact.
Our day started off normal. Isabelle was happy and looking forward to the weekend. I dropped her off about 7 a.m., told her I loved her, to have a good day, and then headed home to get to work.
I got home, walked upstairs and my phone rang. I noticed her name on the screen and figured she forgot something. As I answer the phone, she is whispering and I can barely understand her. Then I hear her whisper….mom, they are shooting up the school, I’m hiding in a closet. I love you mom. In the background, I hear gunfire. I beg her to stay on the phone and she says other kids with her want to call their parents and don’t have phones. I beg her not to hang up as the call drops. I was frozen, standing there with no idea what to do next.
As I ran down the stairs, I’m texting my husband next door telling him to come home now while waking Kam up to tell him what’s going on – thank goodness he already finished school and is home. We meet in the front yard and I’m trying to tell Kenny what’s going on while crying and trying to get in my car. At this point, I don’t know what to do. I send a group text to my family telling them she’s hiding and to NOT to call Isabelle and give away her hiding place. I want desperately to get to my child; however, being a part of a law enforcement family, I also don’t want to hinder the police from doing their jobs to try and save my child. We make our way towards the school and are passed by no less than 30 emergency vehicles along the way. During this time, we are frantic and both of our phones are blowing up. All we can do is stare at them praying she calls us again.
As we near the school, traffic is stopped and parents are running from their cars towards the school. We know they won’t let us near the school, so we sit and wait while arguing and basically freaking the hell out. After being there a while, we can’t stand it any longer and start making our way on foot to the school. We’re almost there when my phone rings and it’s Isabelle telling me they’ve gotten her safely out of the school. She’s in a police car waiting to be interviewed as a witness and the police have told her to tell us to not come to the school. All we can do is return to our car and wait and wait and wait.
We are then forced to leave the area. We were given no choice and instructed to go to another school miles away to await our daughter. As we arrive at the school, we are told to go to another location and give them her name. We are then told to go to another location and wait for them to bus the kids over from the high school. We arrive at that location only to be told to return to the last location. At this point, Kenny has had enough and refuses to budge one more step. They are repeatedly telling us we need to leave that area and he’s standing there with his chin in the air acting like they are not even speaking. His mind was made up and he wasn’t moving one more inch until we had our daughter.
At this point, an FBI officer walks by and Kenny chases him down. Basically, they explain our daughter will be detained for questioning and we should leave a number and they’d call us when she was released — as if there was a chance in hell that we would leave. As we’re speaking with him, the first busload of children arrives. We watch these children walk off looking lost while their eyes search the crowds for their loved ones. Our daughter isn’t on this bus, or the next one, or the next. She calls and tells us she is still at the high school; but, she’s now on a bus and should be there soon. Her friends and boyfriend are calling for reassurance that she is safe.
By this time, we’ve been waiting hours. The parents are forced to stand outside in the heat. Tempers are rising with the temperature and we watch a few parents force their way through to find their kids. We also see the community rallying around and arriving with cold bottles of water and big hugs for the waiting parents. I’m on the phone as another bus passes us, Kenny heads to the back of the building again. The next thing I see is him walking towards me with Isabelle. Finally, I get to hold my baby as we both cry and I try not to notice the blood on her. As we see the media arriving, we hurry her to the car and head home. We get out of the car and Isabelle turns to me crying and saying…I’m so sorry! I’m completely confused and she says…I’m sorry for calling and upsetting you! I can only close my eyes and think about this child who is still worrying about others after the traumatic experience she just experienced. I assure her that she did everything right and try to get her to go inside. There are only Kam and my mom waiting inside; but, she is too overwhelmed to even see anyone. She hugs her grandma, decides to change her clothes, and heads upstairs almost immediately. As we’re sitting upstairs, she’s clearly in shock looking around the room blankly until she glances down. She looks at me and says…this is my favorite outfit and now there’s blood on it and burst into tears. We hold her until she calms down and convince her to change clothes. Kam is trying to get near her and she’s just too hyper sensitive to have anyone around. We’re trying to soothe her as Kam walks back into the room with tears in his eyes. I leave Isabelle with Kenny and go to him as he starts crying and telling me he just found out his best friend was one of the children who died. I now have two children crying and we are helpless and can do nothing but hold them and try to make them feel loved and safe. I glance down and notice my foot is bleeding. I have no idea what I’ve done or when it happened, as I don’t even feel it. Kam heads off for time alone and we stay with Isabelle while she begins to calm down. We’re thanking God our child is home and then she begins to talk… I can only say that I’m so glad we didn’t know what was going on while we were waiting… She arrived at school and headed to her first period, Art. She loves this class and was excited to finish her year end project. As she focused on the project, the first shot barely registers and she isn’t sure what she heard. Suddenly, the kids start screaming and running. The gunman enters their room from the classroom next door and fires a shot that grazes one girl and hits a boy in the classroom. She said everything happened so fast and everyone is panicking and running around the room. There’s a door at the back of the room to which the kids are running…only to discover the door is locked and they are trapped. Seeing the kids turning back from the door, she immediately starts running towards items to hide behind. She’s moving from item to item as the gunman continues to fire into the classroom. She is now covered in dust from the bullets hitting the walls around her. Kids are scrambling trying to hide / escape and she finds an area where he can’t see her, but she can see him. She finally runs for the supply closet where she and 6 other kids hide. They are able to lock one door and begin blocking the other door as another girl runs into the closet with them. As they are moving heavy items in front of the door, the gunman screams…Surprise M*****F****** and begins shooting into the closet. The gunman hits 3 of the 8 kids in the closet…killing 2 of them instantly. He leaves to chase other kids who ran out of the room and they hear more gun shots. Then he comes back.
By this time, Isabelle has called the police and is whispering into the phone. They tell her to stay quiet and that help is on the way. Then silence on the phone. They hear the gunman in the classroom next door yelling Woo Hoo! and firing more shots. She hangs up and calls the police back to be told that they are entering the premises and to stay quiet and keep hiding. Then she hears only silence again. The gunman then comes back into their room and they hear him saying….are you dead? Then more shots are fired. By this time, cell phones all over the classroom are ringing and he’s taunting the kids in the closet asking them….do you think it’s for you? do you want to come answer it? Then he proceeds to fire more bullets into the closet and tries to get in. She calls the police again and they tell her they are headed towards their classroom. After another 5-10 minutes, the police arrive outside the classroom. By this time, she has been laying on the floor for over 30 min next to her deceased classmates. They listen to the exchange between the gunman and the police, as they can hear him reloading his weapon. Finally, the gunman surrenders and police take him into custody.
As the door to the closet opens, she is staring at guns pointed at her. They are instructed to put their hands ups and slowly leave the closet. As they are leaving the closet, they are walking past bodies in the classroom and hallways. They are frisked and removed from the building where they are placed in police cars awaiting questioning. She and her friends had been in the same room with the gunman the ENTIRE TIME. At this point, she makes the call to us that we received while walking towards the school.
Finally, they get her on a bus where the bus driver is asking her if she knows anything about her own daughter, who Isabelle had seen on the floor as she walked through the classroom. This wonderful woman did everything she could to make Isabelle feel safe while not knowing the status of her own child. As the afternoon progresses, her phone is going crazy with students reaching out to one another. The kids are sharing about what they saw and who had been injured and transported to the hospital. One friend who ran from the gunman tells them there was more than one gunman, although we’ve not heard this again in the media. It’s at this time that I notice she is agitated and I look at her phone. Unbelievably, other students are bullying her on social media. Blaming her for not trying to do more to save her classmates, calling her a liar about what happened, etc. I tell her it’s time to shut off social media and put the phone away.
She is now glued to the TV and my niece, Savannah, is on her way over to be with her cousins. Every noise makes her jump and sounds are triggering reactions. She’s our shadow.
Isabelle becomes more and more upset over the TV, as they are interviewing people that weren’t in the area where the gunman was and they are reporting incorrect information. She tells me that she has been contacted by the Washington Post and wants to let them interview her. Now, you have to remember, this is our extremely shy child and my only thought is to protect my child. We talk about it and I explain that while some may feel better sharing their story, others do not. She is insistent that she share her experience so that people know what happened. Within the hour, we have a reporter and cameraman in our home. They were so polite and careful with her. We’re finishing up the interview and I look down and notice that I never even wiped the blood off my foot. We turn our phones back on and are being bombarded with calls and texts. Wendy calls as her friend’s son was shot and in surgery. Steven calls from out of town to check on everyone and ask if we know anything about a foreign exchange student his friend is hosting. My niece, Savannah, has come over to be with her cousins. Gregory is now at the house. Our family calls asking if we know anything about the kid’s cousin. By early evening, the families of missing kids are still waiting for news. Explosives have been found in the school and they have been unable to identify the fatalities while they continue to sweep the building. As the evening progresses, Gregory and Kenny take the children to the vigil for the community, while I go for food. On my way to get food, my phone rings with confirmation that their cousin has died in the shooting. After 10 hrs of waiting, the parents were called together and asked for pictures of their children. They then matched them and notified the families. Think about that for a minute….over 10 hrs…not knowing whether your child is safe.
We return home and begin to eat. Remembering that we were supposed to take Gregory to dinner for his birthday, I tell him that we’ll take him another time. He looks at me and says…this is just a meal. I could’ve been remembering that I lost my sister at my birthday for the rest of my life. As confused as I was feeling, this helped me focus.
As the media announces the names of the confirmed dead, Isabelle falls apart. She’d been watching the TV so intently waiting for this. She had prayed that her friends lying around the school were just injured and the confirmation of their deaths was crushing.
Isabelle tells me that she’s afraid to take a shower. I tell her that she might feel better if she washes away the day. She decides to try and took the quickest shower of her lifetime. She said the water hitting the tiles reminded her of sounds she heard while locked in the closet.
Later in the evening, another parent reached out to ask if Isabelle could come over as her daughter wanted to see her. As she also wanted to check on her friends, I drove her over. We weren’t there 15 minutes and she was ready to leave. One of the other girls was not at school today and the other had run out and was not near the shooting area. As we get in the car, Isabelle tells me that she couldn’t breathe and had to leave. They felt like strangers to her, as they didn’t have the same experience. We talked about grief and how each child’s experience and reaction to it will be different depending on where they were in the school at the time. For now, she feels like she needs to be with those people in the two classrooms that were targeted…and I completely understand.
We get home and she asks her daddy if she can sleep with me. He left to go take care of Kam and I’m sitting her watching her sleep. I’m so proud of her and her bravery and caring heart. She saved herself, called the policy, shared her phone with others who were afraid, spoke to a reporter to share her story, and stayed strong until she was able to transfer her burden to us. So far, she’s sleeping peacefully. No tossing, turning… nothing I anticipated. But as she dreams, she knows that I’m sitting her watching over her and I hope that’s enough for her to find peace in her slumber.
As for today….
The bus driver who so kindly watched over my daughter…lost her own.
My daughter lost two beloved teachers and friends.
My son lost his best friend.
Our family lost their cousin.
A family in Pakistan lost their daughter who was here as a foreign exchange student.
Other families’ children didn’t come home today.
Our community lost their innocence and feeling of safety.
And I noticed that I still haven’t washed the blood off my foot.

 

Who was….?

“Nothing So Dangerous”

Many educational writers sent messages about the Parkland school shooting.

I don’t want to carry a weapon.

I want to carry and give a safe place for ideas and knowledge.

I don’t want to be a hero with my blood, life, or body.

I want to champion my students’ causes.

I don’t want my students terrified, damaged, or in despair.

I want my students filled with hope and creativity.

I want problems presented and solutions found in our world–without fear.

I want the “what if’s” of their lives to be “What if I cure cancer? What if I find cheap, renewable energy? What if I write a great novel?”

Not “What if he breaks through the door? What if I have to climb out the window?”

What if a student is outside the locked door? What if it is your son?

Watching a boy’s hands tremble as the SWAT team stormed the room, some of my students laughed. I wasn’t mad–I told them it’s the body’s natural reaction when adrenaline is overflowing with real, deep and unrelenting fear. So the lesson for that morning was a scientific one: what happens to us physically in situations of extreme physical and psychological torture?

 

The NRA, the current sitting president, and the Republican party are wholesale at war with our children. They are enabling mass murderers, they are complicit, guilty, and the blood is on their hands. There is no room for polite debate or discussion any longer. Do not couch your language or edit your actions. Do not be afraid of what your family, neighbors, or (former) friends think. Use your voice and power to push back, educate, and act.

And the answer to the question: Who was…Who was Chris Kyle: