I hear a gun shot, my heart froze, “don’t panic, don’t
panic.” I frantically find my heart
racing. I run to the light switch to
immediately turn it off & the room darkens. “Be invisible, be invisible.” Hands shaking, I secure the door into lock-
down mode. “Take shelter, take shelter.”
The voice in my head says. I hear
shouting, lots of shouting, a gunshot echoes through the halls again. My inner voice continues, “Take cover, stay low, don’t move, be invisible,
don’t. breathe”. My soul is praying to
God for the sounds to end and I feel the tears falling down my face, my mind… I
am frozen in time...
I think of the sweet, smirk,
smile he gives when he knows he’s in trouble.
“What?! I didn’t do anything!” he
says. I just saw him toss a wad of paper
across the room. He loves the attention,
he takes pride as the “class clown” title.
Our entire staff knows him, we all like him, and trouble just seems to
find him. He walks down the hall as if
the world is at his fingertips. Every
administrator takes time with him, talking with him, resolving student
conflicts with him, working through academic and social situations with
him. At school we do all we can while he
is under our watch. We have him help as a class leader, since he’s got the
confidence we try to put his energy in a positive manner, well, we try. When the bell rings at the end of each day, we
all ask the same question silently to ourselves, what will happen while he’s
NOT under our care? School is where he feels safest, in control. Home though, how
much interaction does he have with positive guidance, adults, role models, and
what are THEY doing to keep him safe and cared for? Who’s with him through the struggles while
at home? After all, when we do contact
the parents, they are sure it’s a mix up of another child, not theirs,
disagreeing with school rules and consequences.
