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May 28, 2022

One of the best and worst parts of being a kindergarten teacher is that I am your child’s introduction to everything ‘school’.

I teach them how to walk in a line, how to hold a pencil, how to go through the cafeteria to get their lunch tray, and I teach them how to engage in an active shooter drill.

I am a teacher who firmly believes in talking to kids. I will never ask them to do something without explaining the importance of it first. Therefore, I explain to my kids why we have to practice active shooter drills.

This part is always the worst. Its their first week of school (EVER) and I have to tell my class of 5 year olds that someone could potentially come into the building with the intention of hurting us. Their eyes get big as I explain how we have to hide and be as quiet as possible because if an intruder can hear us, they can find us.

Then it’s time to practice. The loud speakers announce we are ‘In lockdown’ and I have to move quickly. The kids watch in horror as I run to make sure the door is locked and cover the windows. They begin to cry as I turn off the lights and usher them out of view into quiet corners and under tables.

The drill we follow is called ALICE. The ‘C’ in ALICE stands for ‘counter’. This means I have to give my 5 year olds something they can defend themselves with in order to fight the shooter. A sharp pencil, a heavy pack of paper, a baseball from recess…. anything that can potentially be used to counter the threat. I had to do this at the first school I worked at. As the kids are hiding with their ‘weapons’, I am barricading the door with anything and everything. Stacking desks and pushing heavy bookshelves as my students begin to cry for their parents.

Then we wait. And as time goes on, kids are upset and becoming more anxious. A school employee rattles the doorknob of my classroom to make sure it’s locked and peers through the window to make sure we aren’t visible. This horrifies the kids and honestly it shakes me too. Remember, this is our practice drill. I can’t imagine the real thing. But in some ways I can.

The loud speakers come on again to say that “first responders are in the building” and I have to tell my kids that we still can’t move or speak. I run and slide a paper under the door to inform first responders of how many kids and adults are in the room, how many are injured, and how many are missing. Then we wait some more. At this point, half my class is in tears and I want to cry too.

The loud speakers come on one more time to tell us the drill is over and we may resume learning. The kids have completed their first lockdown drill ever. They are shaken and I am shaken as well. Resuming learning as usual is not an option. I know I have just shifted their entire perspective of the school experience they were so excited to begin.