Education Week - June 1, 2022 - 24

20
The Grave Education
Consequences
Of the 'Great
Replacement' Lie
21
We Need to Talk
About Racism
With White Students
Now
22
Letters to the Editor
The archbishop of San Antonio,
Gustavo Garcia-Siller,
comforts families following
a deadly school shooting at
Robb Elementary School in
Uvalde, Texas, on Tuesday,
May 24, 2022.
A Devastated Teacher's Plea
For Gun Reform
By Mary M. McConnaha
A
t the front of my
classroom, I would
run through the drill
in my head daily.
Shooter in the
building? Get the
kids to run to the left
and down the back staircase. Go across the
parking lot and into the tree line behind the
school. Make sure I have my phone.
Shooter in the hallway? Close the door
and turn off the lights. Pretend like the entire
school has gone on a field trip. Don't forget
to turn off the projector. Direct the kids to sit
along the wall away from the windows and
stay silent. Sit myself closest to the door, ready
to flip over the rolling whiteboard.
Shooter in the classroom? Shove the wheely
cart in front of me at the door. Keep my water
bottle, phone, and pencil cup at hand to be
thrown. While throwing, run at the shooter.
When I was a second-year education major
at a small liberal arts school, my professor
thought it was important to cover these three
situations. We memorized the address of the
school and room number of the classroom,
looked at the best ways to bar the door,
and even established who would open the
windows in the event we had to escape.
Our professor also walked us through
what she would do in the event of a shooting
in our classroom and assured us she did not
expect any of us to fight back with her. She
was modeling for us how we could have these
conversations with our own students.
Columbine happened when I was 3 years
old, and Sandy Hook when I was in high
school. I have always gone to school in a
country and at a time when school shootings
have been a real threat. When I was a student,
I honestly didn't think of that threat often. But
as a teacher, I thought about the prospect of a
gunman every day of my career.
At every school, I took stock of each
classroom. Bookcases, whiteboards, and
chairs could all serve as barricades. Water
bottles, computers, books, and coffee mugs
could all be flying projectiles that just might
slow down the shooter.
When I taught at my second school, I
was on the third floor of a building with
windows that did not open. Our only exit
was through the classroom door, which was
glass. There, we would hide along the back
wall on the other side of the storage closet.
That was exactly what I did the first time an
announcement came over the intercom that
we were in a lockdown and needed to take
shelter immediately.
I didn't hear anything and I was alone
during my planning period, so I turned off
my projector and lights, locked the door, and
closed the curtains before sitting on a milk
crate in the back of class. Should I call 911 as
my professor had said to? I didn't. Instead, I
held my knees and texted my husband that I
loved him without any context. Five minutes
later, the secretary came on to say that that
had been a drill. That was when I learned
about unannounced active-shooter drills. I
went home and cried.
Later that month, a student brought a BB gun
to school. In the moment when he was
running around and trying to fight another
student, we thought it was a real gun. And that
was when I realized how unprepared the other
24 | EDUCATION WEEK | June 1, 2022 | www.edweek.org/opinion
teachers and I actually were to handle a live
shooter in the school building.
Once everything calmed down, we brought
the students back into our rooms to process
quietly for the last two hours of the school day.
Many of my students were crying and asking
if they could take out their phones to call their
parents. We were asked not to allow that, but
I couldn't say no to them. None of the other
teachers could, either. I went home and cried
again. Ultimately, I left that school before
winter break.
Even at my last teaching placement, at a
private school where the cost to attend was
more than my college tuition, I ran through
active-shooter drills in my head. My room
had even more glass than before. Where
could I possibly have the students sit that
would be safe? These students were younger.
How could I teach them to be absolutely
silent when all they wanted to do was poke
each other in the side as we did an all-school
lockdown drill?
All these questions I have asked myself
over the last seven years, as a teacher and
a preservice teacher. Ultimately, how can I
keep my students the safest for the longest,
knowing full well it might be me that goes
down? It's an unfair question that millions
of teachers wrestle with every day, and even
more on a day like May 24, when at least 19
children and two teachers lost their lives to a
gunman.
Until then, I had always been a student
or educator watching these faraway news
stories unfold. I've imagined where I would
hide and how I would defend, how I would
direct my students to run or take shelter along
a concrete wall. But this time, I found out
about the shooting at an elementary school
in Uvalde, Texas, as I was comforting my
newborn son and first child. I left the K-12
classroom permanently about a month ago
to start my maternity leave and I did not
consider that the news would hit me harder
than it ever had before.
Now, it is not me who will be in the
classroom but my son. He won't start school
for another four or five years, but when he
does, will our students still be practicing
active-shooter drills? Will teachers still be
planning escape routes and strategically
placing large bookcases near the door for
an easy barricade? Will politicians still be
unable or unwilling to adopt any laws that will
keep my tiny baby safe? I hope to God that
something changes.
National youth poet laureate Amanda
Gorman wrote on Twitter on the night of the
attack, " It takes a monster to kill children. But to
watch monsters kill children again and again and
do nothing isn't just insanity-it's inhumanity. "
As I refresh the news and hold my
newborn tightly, I'm devastated for all
the parents and family members of the
children who won't be coming home. There
is only one way to honor all the children
and school staff who have lost their lives
to gun violence-inside and outside the
classroom-and that is with gun reform.
McCONNAHA previously worked as
a middle school English teacher in
Montgomery County, Md. She is currently
on maternity leave with her first child. In
the fall, she will attend Michigan State
University to pursue a Ph.D. in curriculum,
instruction, and teacher education.
Dario Lopez-Mills/AP
http://www.edweek.org/opinion
Education Week - June 1, 2022

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