when i grow up...

Author's note:

Hi there, just a warning that this story deals with the situation of a school-shooting, so please, if this you are sensitive to this topic, do not continue.

thank you and stay safe :)

-

oh how i fear for the one who says teacher...

1. Miss Walters

It was a Thursday. Usual school day, except for the activities.

Time to finish off our unit on the future. That was the plan.

I handed out the worksheets.

"When i grow up..."

Killing 2 birds with one stone:

- practising spelling

- thinking about the future

It went pretty smooth.

I reminded my class to write their names at the top of the page

No one did, but why would they?

There was a person to cut out, an outfit to colour in!

And, of course,

the future to think about.

15 minutes later. time to share.

They put their hands up, so eager.

I want to be a policeman and catch bad guys!

when i grow up i'm going to be a vet and talk to animals!

I'm going to be a doctor!

A farmer!

a firefighter!

a pilot!

And then there was Stacey.

There's always one.

She was the quietest, but secretly, i knew, she had the most potential.

She always thought about things. had a very all-rounded mind. creative, too. shy, but kind.

"I want to be a teacher..." was what she said so gently.

"I want to be a teacher..." was what made my heart shudder with the echo of my own words from so long ago.

"Very good job everyone" were the only false words my mouth could manage in that neverending silence.

The bell. oh, please can the bell ring now?

the clock ticks loudly in the corner.

can someone speed the world back to normal?

someone kill the silence now. make the mockingbird sing.

there is too much quiet, but they're all chatting, comparing those sweet little worksheets.

oh how i always fear for the one who says teacher...

-

2. Stacey

I wrote that worksheet when i was 6 and a half years old. gosh, i must've had my tongue sticking to the side as i precariously chose each coloured pencil. very very carefully. after all, this was the future we were thinking about!

i guess that dream stuck with me.

here i am, nearly 20 years later.

a teacher.

just like that little worksheet said.

why does it feel different?

i love learning.

i love kids, teaching kids.

its something i am finally good at.

putting that potential to use.

making those kids,

those innocent, kind, curious kids,

use their glorious minds to do good.

...

oh how i hate it when the bubble bursts.

...

we were in the middle of storytime on that Tuesday afternoon. i don't remember the book. it is irrelevant now that there is no one to remember it.

i did not hear the alarm at first, but i should've.

i should've been ready.

but the bubble hadn't burst, yet.

so we kept sitting there

Reading through one of those many colourful story books

Unaware of the bursting silence just outside the door.

I didn’t realise.

I didn’t know.

And then I heard the first scream.

i knew then that there was something wrong.

No child can fake such an ear-splitting, heart wrenching sound.

it isn’t possible.

I went to the door. Looked out the head-height glass window into the storm of the hallway. silence.

I could hear the blood swirling through my veins, a whistling droned in my ears.

then I heard the bang.

a gunshot.

I knew that sound from the farm. The sound of Death stealing souls too young to be taken. The final sound an animal hears before it is committed to the kitchen.

it was then that I realised the school had become a slaughterhouse.

my class were still oblivious, somehow.

we needed to move. Get somewhere safe.

“Okay class,” I forced the words out my mouth. The last thing I needed to do was stay quiet and anxious.

I locked the door, my hands already slick with sweat. Great. What an amazing time to be clumsy with fear.

“Everybody get under your desks please” I half-shouted across the room. Order conquers chaos. That was the line that kept circling my head.

I knew i needed everybody to stay quiet. stay calm.

"quickly everyone!" i said, shooing them to their spots. we hadn't done a drill in a while - i made a mental note to always take drills more seriously.

luckily, they listened. as they clambered into tiny balls under their desks, i put a finger to my lips, urging silence from my chatterbox class.

then an idea struck me.

what better way to maintain order, quiet and calm, than to do some colouring?

i tiptoed to my desk, cursed the bloody squeak from the old wooden drawer, and grabbed the remaining pile of emergency colouring pages.

i whispered, passed out the worksheets, shared out the pencils.

and there they laid, so focused and calm. oblivious to the mayhem. the bursting bubble. they hardly heard the screams they were so contented by some more colouring.

children's innocence is too precious, i realised that day. in those.. 30? minutes of quiet time, i could call help.

i could keep a lookout without 17 noisy kids by my side.

and we stayed safe.

oh, thank goodness, we stayed safe.

all because of some coloured pencils and quick thinking.

and i am still proud to be a teacher.

-

fin.

Author's note:

hi there, thank you for reading!

i don't know where the inspiration for this story came from, but i think it is a thought-provoking idea. i myself do not live in a country where firearms are...common. there are gun laws here. so please understand that this experience - a school shooting - it is not something i have even come close to experiencing, and the ending to the story is probably very unlikely. this is just an idea. a way to express my opinion on global issues...especially ones that affect the young people in our society.

thank you again for reading and i hope this (completely fictional) story makes you think :)

-Red

Resources on this topic:

https://www.sandyhookpromise.org/blog/gun-violence/facts-about-gun-violence-and-school-shootings/

https://www.sandyhookpromise.org/blog/gun-violence/know-the-signs-of-gun-violence/