me: 1st grader….many, many years ago

You see, I’m a teacher….a 1^st grade teacher…in a small town, similar to the one effected….only hundreds of miles away from the devastation. This past Friday, my morning was filled with 20 pairs of dancing eyes and stories of mischievous elves on the shelves. Then, my 20 1^st graders and I celebrated a holiday luncheon with our parents and performed a little song / dance for The Twelve Days of Christmas. Unbeknownst to us, the unimaginable had occurred – to a school, very similar to my own – to students, teachers, and staff that would soon be household names around the country. Through the weekend, as the innocent victims’ identities were revealed and pictures shown, I saw my children in those eyes, in those toothless grins, and the sweet innocence so evident on each child’s face. I found myself replaying the scene as I imagined it took place, only in my school, among my peers, and with my children. The anguish on the parents’ faces was replaced with my children’s parents’ faces…and the stories became interwoven in my very being….creating a gray line between my world and theirs. I questioned my possible reaction, if – heaven forbid – my school was ever under attack.  I worried about the residual effects on all teachers and students nationwide in the wake of this gut-wrenching tragedy.