The Little Things

LOCKDOWN!

LOCK! LIGHTS! OUT OF SIGHT! 

I sprint down the hallway of my choir room to check the hallway and lock the door, not thinking. While running back, reaching out to turn off hallway lights along the way, my retractable keychain hits my lip. In the main area of my room, 28 middle school boys are staring at me frozen. I yell at them to get behind the risers breaking stride briefly to shut the last two light switches off. 

Thank God my voice started coming back today. 

Heading towards the spot I always take behind the risers, (the only space visible to anyone who enters the room), I trip over my piano bench from the sudden dark and miraculously keep my footing. 

Thank God I wore my high tops today. 

Okay, next task. Checking off in an app who is safe, absent or missing. 

Thank God I charged my phone last night. 

One of the seventh graders who usually fights me on everything, today wanted to check for their inhaler with the nurse. After a brief argument, our paraprofessional (who has a master key) escorted him.

The nurse wasn’t in their room when the lockdown was called. 

Thank God for his arguing and misuse of the hall pass recently. 

My students are silent. 

Thank God for them taking this seriously. 

Mama Mary, I start to pray, please wrap us in your mantle. O Jesus, I surrender myself to you, take care of everything. 

Now to text someone from the front office to ask if I missed an email and this is actually a drill. 

no.

I didn’t. 

The physical button was pressed accidentally. 

Thank God. 

We still have to wait to be cleared by an admin.

Thank God I can calm my own emotional state now. 

Once cleared, I start to ease my students back into normal class… attempting to get their brains past the event. 

There are 6 boys that are inconsolable, ranging from ages 11 to 14. 

Thank God this is an all male class. 

I approach one of them and place my hand on their shoulder. 

They hear me speak on how the threat was not real, but their feelings are. They are valid in every emotion and thought they had for the past 20-25 minutes. 

Other boys start to console each other. Hugs are happening, love is being shared. 

Thank God for their vulnerability. 

I am emotionally spent from today…. Ripped apart from the raw emotions of male pre-teens and teens. Their realization that this could be their reality undid them, and me.

Thank God that I was able to create a safe space for them. 

These students need me, I know.  I may teach choir, but I teach so much more. 

Thank God for the arts. 

On the outside, I have a bruised lip… on the inside, my heart is being ripped open. 

Thank God my heart still beats. 

This is not the first one of these this year… nor is it the first of this spring semester. The amount of times in a school year these children have had to face their own mortality is crazy. The beauty is in the way these young men were supporting each other afterwards. 

Thank God for their fellowship. 

I am expected to lay my life down for them. 

Thank God today that was not tested. 

Tomorrow, I know most of these gentlemen will walk into my classroom and be back to normal. I will not be able to get a full sentence out without having to shush them, they will not be able to keep their hands to themselves, will go back to cussing out each other or me. They will throw verbal aggression and insults around and act like I am enemy #1 when I try to correct them. 

Thank God for their resilience. 

I am exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. My heart has already been conflicted in my current career path… I don’t know what to do except pray and hold steadfast in my faith while praying for fruitful discernment. 

For now, I will continue to look for ways to thank God for the little things so they may become the big things. 

LOCKDOWN!

LOCK! LIGHTS! OUT OF SIGHT!