Shhh… It’s a Fire Drill
The Sad Reason I’m Happy My Kids’ School Never Re-opened
As the mass shootings in Atlanta and Colorado remind us that gun violence in America is still a serious threat, I feel the need to reveal a fear buried deep in my soul.
This time last year, my daughter’s school closed for Spring Break and has yet to re-open due to COVID. I complain to whoever will listen about needing a break from my 4- and 2-year-olds who are home all of the time. I sign petitions to get all of the teachers in my state vaccinated. I write about the cost of having kids out of school, particularly to the careers of mothers.
But the truth is, I’m scared to let them go.
When my husband and I first enrolled my then 2-year-old daughter to a toddler program, I was reluctant. She seemed far too young and I far too fragile to deal with drop-off jitters. But her baby brother was just born, and we decided it would do her some good to have something of her own.
On her first day, we took the obligatory “first day of Pre-K” picture. Every morning thereafter, our curly-haired, brown-eyed little girl insisted on being photographed with her tiny backpack and a smile so big it was worth updating the chalkboard sign on each of the 180 days of the school year.
After school one afternoon, she and I were playing in the living room during her brother’s nap time. While I would cherish the rare alone time with her, she would count down the minutes until he woke up.
At the first little sound, she insisted we go get him. After preparing his bottle with her help, I followed her into their shared bedroom, gave him his milk, then unzipped his sleep sack and changed his diaper. I picked him up from his crib when my daughter skipped ahead of us, closed the door, and turned off the light.
“What are you doing, silly?” I asked.
“Shhh…” she whispered. “It’s a fire drill. We have to be very, very quiet.”
I had never seen her reenact a drill before. Something told me to let this one play out. She sat crisscross apple sauce on the floor.
I wondered why it had to be dark and why we had to be so quiet, but I didn’t dare question a toddler, so I did as she instructed.
Because she was talking in such a low voice, I had a hard time making out what she was saying until she said, “It’ll be okay, baby brother. We just have to be very quiet.”
That’s when it dawned on me: I wasn’t witnessing a fire drill; I was sitting through an active shooter drill.
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My heart began pounding. I could feel my temperature rising as my body became warmer, my son’s body heavier, somehow harder to control.
Singing a song they must have learned in school, she had no idea this was scary — a testament to her amazing teachers. I thought about them: how in an emergency, they would put my child’s life ahead of their own. I thought about my daughter. At such a young age, she found in her innate nature the need to protect her little brother the same way, I imagine, so many kids had to do with their friends during the tragic school shootings over the years. I thought about the parents who have to put on a brave face while feeling so hopeless in this senseless battle against gun violence. Finally, I thought about her baby brother who had no care in the world as he yabbled (yelled + babbled) in the dark.
“Okay, all done!”
She turned on the light and opened the door. She said something about the front desk and how we could leave the room now.
Two years. That’s how far apart my kids are in age, how long it seems little ones can keep their innocent, ignorant bliss, their belief that everything is always going to be alright.
Two years. That’s how long it’s been since I witnessed my 2-year-old reenact an active shooter drill. And I’m no more convinced today than I was back then that it’s safe to send her back to school.
Because it’s been almost a decade since kids between the ages of five and 10 years old were brutally murdered in Newtown, CT with the same AR-15-style assault rifle the Boulder, CO shooter used to kill 10 people just a few days ago.
Like many others, I threw my hands in the air after the bill to make federal changes to gun laws did not pass in the wake of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. If we couldn’t push it through in honor of the 20 elementary students and six school administrators who were killed, when would we?
I felt a glimpse of hope when witnessing the teens who survived the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School almost immediately step into action. Their efforts, which culminated to launching March for Our Lives, got new gun laws passed in Florida a little over three weeks after the 14 high school students and three school administrators were killed.
While it is promising that a number of states have continued to change their local laws, we still wait for Congress to approve common-sense gun regulations on the federal level.
Because apparently toddlers can be troubled to practice active shooter drills but grown adults can’t be bothered to practice patience with background checks, waiting periods and red flag laws.
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