tap tap tap...is this thing on?

I haven't posted in forever. Sorry.

I'm real busy. This life just doesn't slow down.

But I have a lot of thoughts lately and blogging seemed like a fine idea.

I am utterly devastated about the tragic happenings at Sandy Hook Elementary. More than devastated, I am horrified. I am angry. I am heartbroken. I am afraid.

I think every mother is. I think every momma is hanging onto her babies tighter and loving the moments a little more.

But as a teacher, too, I almost feel at a loss.

I read and read and thought and thought.  What would I say to my students on Monday? I knew to listen to my students, but also to reassure them. We are so safe, I would tell them.

This morning, I wondered if we would be lucky enough to not have to talk about it. No such luck.

Yes, sad things happened. Really sad things. But it didn't happen here. We are so safe, I told them. At their request, I walked them out into our pod, I showed them the doors that lock automatically at the push of a button in the main office. We talked about what to do, exactly. And then we moved on and had a normal day.

This afternoon I heard a loud noise in the pod. I don't know what is was. We were listening to Christmas music and wrapping gifts for parents. I went to the door, my hands shaking. Nothing. A few parents waiting for their babies. I am losing it, I thought.

And all day, looking into those sweet faces...I felt such grief for all the parents and teachers who had lost colleagues, students. I read something someone posted on facebook about how much teachers love their students...that when it comes down to it, we would take a bullet for someone else's kid. And it's just true. Any teacher would. It's a big thing that you don't really ever have to think about, but now you think about it. And you look at their bright shining faces and you know, without a doubt, you would do it.

We had a meeting after school about our procedures in case of such events.

I stayed an hour late tonight, making paper screens to block my door and the glass windows around my door. Practicing locking the door. Deciding to leave my door locked, always, but propped open. People can knock if they can't get in. I'll carry my key. Making sure the blinds worked. Seeing how fast I could do it all. Cleaning out low cupboards, jamming everything into the higher ones.

Shaking hands. Tears streaming.

One of my students asked if we had bulletproof glass.

I was taken aback by the question. How can we live in a world where that thought even occurs to a kid? I thought.

I think this is just my way of processing things. I'm not crazy, but I am sad and worried. And I want to make sure I am prepared to do absolutely everything I can to keep those sweet kiddos safe, no matter what. And I don't want to be terrified into inaction if something ever happens, I want to be ready. One of my coworkers is bringing a bat to school. I love that.

And for the next little while, I'm sure I will still be sad and worried. But I'm also trying to remember that this world is beautiful, too, and I'm trying to focus on that.

I'll keep trying.