Friday, December 14, 2007

To elaborate on what happened... I'll jsut give you what I typed up per request of the newspaper. Maybe it'll make you feel better, maybe it won't.

They drilled us over and over again. Up until now, I don’t think any of the students – or even the teachers – really took it seriously. “This is a Code Red situation” came over the intercom Wednesday morning around nine AM, and none of us knew what was going on. The warning was issued during the transition between first block and advisement. Most students were still in the hallways. Teachers, confused and slightly panicked, pulled students into the rooms, completely unaware of what was going on. It took nearly half an hour before the first email was sent to teachers telling them what was happening. Most of the student body didn’t realize that it was real, not just a drill, until that first email reached the teachers. After that, my fear evaporated. Well, not completely. I was still reasonably frightened, but my brain continued to function, and my friend and I began looking around the room for items that could be used as weapons. We moved a shelf in front of the window. The room seemed nearly impenetrable, especially for me. At one point, we heard voices coming down the hallway. Everyone in the classroom became silent, my friend moved next to the door with the heaviest, longest object he could find: an umbrella. I sat against the opposite wall hidden between boxes and a shelf, preparing to pop a pair of scissors into blades at the last second. As the voices faded, I remember he walked over to me and said, “You may be the most lethal person in this room.” I felt insanely better. The duration of the period – roughly three hours – consisted of us trading places innumerable times, emails about missing and extra students flying back and forth, and the unmistakable whir of helicopter blades overhead. For the situation, the officials handled it very well. I was told later that there was a sniper on the roof, and I know for a fact that there was at least one policeman outside my classroom’s windows with a large gun for the majority of the waiting period. Even after they were sure they’d caught those responsible for the uproar, we remained on code yellow until fourth block, in which the teachers were required to keep their doors locked if nothing else. The school buzzed with relative excitement as the entire school did what teenagers are apt to do: we speculated. Rumors spread like wildfire, debating on what had really happened. The only facts that any of us could get right were that it was two white males, and that guns were involved. No one really seemed scared. We all knew that we were as protected as we were going to get. We all laughed – and laugh still – when we think of how it was only two students who had decided to go hunting in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, I know I won’t look at a Code Red drill the same ever, ever again.
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