i’ve had my television off since it happened. my brain could not then and will not now comprehend the tragedy, and i don’t want it to.
i’ve stayed away from social media. i see you arguing about guns and which country is more violent and the second amendment and hunting and what type of guns were used and mental illness and the lack of availability of proper care and all those simpleton reasons you’re offering up because you don’t want to hear about gun control and health care.
i saw you say you were his mother and you went viral within hours and everyone had read it and it made me pause because i think it was the exact opposite of what you wanted it to be.
i saw you say if teachers had guns in their classrooms this would never have happened.
i saw the inconceivability of you shoving cameras and microphones in the faces of those babies and saying how impressed you were with how articulate they were.
and i was motionless.
and i was speechless.
and i was numb because anything other than numb would have been too much.
you said you would have killed him yourself if you had been there,
and i was angry.
i could see myself hiding with the children and wishing my face was not the last thing they would see and my voice was not the last one they would hear and i would search my thoughts and try to analyze if i was worthy of being in that spot of being their last thing and i would stand there because standing there is as much bravery as anyone could imagine.
i am a teacher
i will remember that my words could be the last they hear and my face could be the last they see and i will look at them with patience and kindness.
i will look at you as i walk past you in the market and i will smile and i will say hello and i will be kind and i will pause before my words escape my mouth and i will withhold my sigh and you can mock me all you want.
i am a teacher