LOCK IT DOWN!

My windows at school have been completely blocked.  There are plywood boards, thick ones, nailed to wooden moorings that have been silicone-glued to the concrete walls.  When I come in to work on Monday, my classroom is darker than night, there is questionable-dust coating everything from the window treatments, and there are huge splinters on the desk chairs, some long enough to spear clear through one's thigh.

I wash down all the desks and chairs lest someone pick up a chunk of sheered wood and use it as a weapon, or worse, sit on it by accident and get a humungous splinter in an ass cheek.  I cannot even imagine what the air quality readings are like after being completely shut in with almost one hundred mouth-breathing young teens for hours on end without any ventilation whatsoever.  As it is, when I return from a meeting almost an hour later, just opening the door emits enough powerful dead air to knock a buzzard off a shit wagon.

Now, though, with these six giant slabs of plywood covering my windows, I no longer have the illusion of daytime streaming in to my room.  I no longer see the construction workers who awkwardly stand and pledge allegiance to the flag through my window when they hear the announcements seeping through the plexiglass.  It is as bizarre for them as it is for us having that theatrical third wall broken and breached.  The plywood will save them from having to stop and salute, from being afraid when I sneeze too loudly, from the bored stares of the disengaged students, and from me dancing naked during my planning period.  Okay, that last one I made up just to see if you are still paying the remotest slice of attention.

This complete and absolute shuttering of the outside world strikes an increment of agita in my claustrophobic self, but that is nothing, nothing at all compared to when I prep for our lockdown drill.  This fact alone is startling that, in lieu of everything going on in this world, we have yet to practice the drill.  Until today.  Because I am a semi-trained journalist, I have a way of finding out confidential information, and I am completely aware that we are having our lockdown drill today, soon, maybe even now as you read this.

In a lockdown drill, I am supposed to herd the children into one corner, away from windows, doors, and general mayhem, and force them to keep their hands folded while they sit silently huddled into a corner.  There are only two problems with this scenario:  #1 - There is a film of oily sawdust everywhere, and I do not want them sitting in it; #2 - the room is pitch black when I flip the lights off (as per the instruction). 

Call me old-fashioned, call me a prude.  However, I see absolutely no logical nor productive reason why I should huddle prepubescent boys and girls into a completely black corner, you know, just in case someone shifts an arm or leg around and makes illegal contact (or what might be perceived as illegal contact).  I decide to set up my desks in groupings and make sure these desks are away from the doors.  This way the children can remain in their seats in the silence in the dark like miniature Walt Disneys in suspended animation.

The announcement will be made, sending us into lockdown mode.

I will, of course, lock the door quickly and efficiently, which is fun since my door handle is the only one different than everyone else's and lacks a quick and efficient lock.  Oh, it locks, but it's like the opening sequence of Get Smart to accomplish the task.

Since there is no qualifier that this is just a drill, the nervous students will all suddenly have to pee.  Nobody leaves; we are locked and loaded. (Poor choice of words, I'm sure.)

I will take attendance, and fill out the proper paper color to shove under the door to indicate our status.  I'll slide the paper into the hallway, letting any hypothetical gunmen know that this here is a classroom full of unarmed citizens ripe for the taking.

I shall then instruct the children to put their heads down on their desks and be completely and utterly silent (or, so help me, I will smack each one with a rolled up piece of construction paper … if I could find one to roll up).  I plan to break protocol and keep them safely sitting away from the doors (windows don't count anymore since they are behind the plywood fortress) and also sitting safely away from each other.

Then, I will shut off the lights.

Certainly screaming, crying, and general mayhem will ensue here as true claustrophobia sets in along with the inability to see the fingers in front of one's face.  I can sense fear in the air, hear it, taste it; all this before I realize that I am the only one in panic-mode here. 

What seems like hours later but is really only minutes, we will be allowed to return to normal status, lights will come back on, and the immobile mannequins of children will statically return to life, their power fully restored.  The lesson, like the show, will go on.

This is how I anticipate the lockdown drill to go.  I'll certainly report back if I don't have a heart attack being shut in to the lightless black mausoleum that has become my work space.