As I drove back from my hometown that day, starbucks in hand, bravely bringing a friend tylenol that had a bad day- i never thought once that, i’d be turning on the tv to see these images just days later.
A thirteen year old child, 2 hand guns, one brave science teacher- and though the trauma, it- clings, a hero has been born in a sense. That kind of unpredictable moment that one story has begun and another is over. You just never can be sure- that it’s not going to be your school, your home, your kid, your day spent waiting for hours for the results of a giant life test. not the kind that requires scantrons and do they even do that anymore? the little holes you have to learn to perfect filling in, if you truly believe in education in the 90’s.
But today? those little pieces of paper that remind us too- education is not the same.
I drove home at 2am, and I never thought I’d end up seeing the place I grew up all over every channel of every station of the news. every radio broadcast. every mile I drove to and from my modest job, in my modest car, in my limited life- I am suddenly just a little more grateful for, than the day before.
The world has just become, a different place today.
But in the sudden trauma too, there is a beauty. Everyone is just a little bit kinder, just a little less difficult, Just a little more understanding of each other. Just a little more listening, and a little less talking. Just a little more gratitude, and little less complaining, everywhere you look.
It is the great pause- the breath of a community held in momentary silence. The sigh of relief of every parent for a hundred miles.
A teacher just came out of surgery taking three bullets, and a hundred kids, just lived.
Has no one thought to thank the universe yet?