So, I work at a small school, and today we had an active shooter training during lunch. The students had an open park hour, so we wouldn’t unduly stress them out, and our leader collected us all on Zoom first because we’d be rehearsing what to do in the event. She flashed, first, a poster that said BREATHE, and she meant now because of how stressful even anticipating and considering an active shooter on the premises is for everyone. While I carefully ate my mixed salad with chicken, almonds, roasted brussel sprouts and blood orange dressing that I’d picked up at MIXT beforehand, she carefully went through the slides and the instructions for what we were going “to do.” I felt my heart rate increase, and the rest was — well — organized and weird and methodical and sobering.
What does this have to do with being a MoFaCa during National Family Caregiver Month? I guess I wanted to give a shout-out to teachers, mainly, and how seriously we take our jobs protecting and caring for your children. We care for and give care to them and to one another. Your children are our family, at least during the many, many hours that they are away from you all. We’ve talked a fair bit about policy and the systems of care that are the most burdensome to navigate — we’ve only barely touched the surface of disability and civil rights and being the voices of those who do not have voices of their own — but we haven’t talked about all the other caregivers. The teachers, today.
I’d like to add in that I’m pissed at those who consistently vote in arrogant fools who have no interest in children — disabled or not — who are more comfortable protecting the goddamn second amendment and their own illusions of safety and entertainment in gun ownership than in protecting the children and human beings who watch over them from being picked off. It’s a travesty and absurd that we have to train ourselves to run, hide or fight in order to prepare for and prevent another pile of dead children.
Piles of dead children everywhere, and this absurd exercise as a stop-gap — an earnest and well-meaning attempt to deal with damaged people of evil intent, enabled by a stupid, mediocre populace and evil industry.
That’s all I’ve got for today, MoFaCas.
Last year the first day I went into teach one of my poetry classes on the reservation was also the day they were having an active shooter drill, my first. This was during a period when Covid was surging again, and in a community where masks weren't being enforced (the tribe was for it, but whites outnumber Indians 5-1 on this reservation). I felt physically ill, the connection between the people who are happy to put children and teachers at risk when it comes to masks being the same ones who are obstinate about doing really anything reasonable to prevent school shootings. It was profoundly disturbing.
Thank you for recognizing the care giving every good teacher does selflessly, courageously, with a heart to love. Teachers are heroes.