I figured out many years ago that I wouldn’t survive the zombie apocalypse.
How could I? I’m a teacher. Kids are my thing. I can’t even watch movies where bad guys do things to little kids. I climbed straight up the couch saying, “No no no, turn it off turn it off turn it OFF,” when I watched a few minutes of Ransom and got to the point where the kid was tied to the bed and drugged with Nyquil.
I won’t survive the zombie apocalypse, because I won’t be able to stop myself from going after a kid in trouble.
And my kids? My kids are always in trouble.
I teach special education. I deal with kids with a variety of attention issues, learning struggles, and more than anything else – behavioral issues.
When I taught preschoolers with special needs, I would imagine it sometimes – what I would do in the event of zombies. I had a kid in a wheelchair. I had kids who could not stay quiet. And I had kids who would fight and punch and pull hair if I ever tried to limit their movement to keep them away from the doors.
I think of school shootings in the same way.
During lockdowns – what some other places call “active shooter drills” – I would sit in the corner of my classroom beside the sand table, desperately trying to keep my kids sitting quietly with lollipop bribes and playdough, knowing that if someone did actually enter the school and there was shooting sounds, my sensory sensitive kids would go through the roof screaming and crying. And knowing there was not a damn thing I would be able to do about it except try to comfort them and keep everyone away from the door.
It gets more complicated as students get older.
In my current role, I work as a resource teacher for a school that serves K-5 grades. The resource room is not only where I pull kids to work on academics, but also where kids who need a break or are having emotional and behavioral issues go.
And based on the last few school shootings, those are the kids who are more likely to be school shooters.
So this whole call for teachers to be armed is far more stupid than I can express.
Years and years ago, I worked in a residential treatment center for kids from age 5 to 13 years old. These kids had been removed from their homes due to severe abuse and were not able to function in regular schools or full time at home. One night when I was working with the younger kids, I had a phone call from the older group’s house.
There had been some kind of incident. 911 had been called – by an angry child who was trying to get even with a staff member. When the police arrived, there was chaos. A riot.
And an 8 year old child with anger and violence issues put his hands on a police officer’s gun in the madness.
The gun was never pulled from it’s holster. The strap was still buckled down. He might not have been strong enough to lift a handgun out of the holster anyway.
But it doesn’t matter.
In a preschool classroom, there is no way I could have carried a gun. A preschool teacher is a jungle gym for children – kids were in my lap, in my arms, on my back clinging like monkeys.
In a resource classroom, the chances of a special education teacher having to carry a gun and use it on a school shooter would likely involve shooting a child I’ve known for three years. A child I fight to show everyday that they can trust me – that poor choices are not the end of the world – that mistakes can be fixed.
I’m going to die in the zombie apocalypse. It’s something I’ve come to terms with.
Do not arm teachers. Do not traumatize my already traumatized, struggling students.
Help us keep them safe.
