This is NOT a Drill!

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DrillIn April of 1999, the unthinkable happened. Two young men walked into Columbine High School and began shooting, killing 13 and wounding many others. Shocking. Heartbreaking. Tragic. And, being in high school myself at the time, a bit terrifying as well. This was not the country’s first school shooting. But it was, for a plethora of reasons, hugely significant. For the first time, it seemed, the issue of gun violence in schools was really thrust into the light. And, for the first time, it had me thinking: What if this happened at my school?

Fast forward ten years to the fall of 2009. My oldest came home from Kindergarten with a note in her backpack informing parents of the lockdown drill the school had performed that day. A lockdown drill? Whether I was completely oblivious or just out of the loop, I had never heard of or experienced anything even remotely close to what the school did that day. When I asked my 5 year old to tell me about it, she was very matter of fact. The teacher turned off the lights and locked the door. She showed the students the best places to hide in their classroom. And they had to be silent. Absolutely silent. While I was slightly surprised to learn that these drills were as common now as fire drills in schools, and saddened for a moment that this kind of rehersal was even necessary, I did see the value in preparing for the worst. And I knew that my daughter was in good hands.

Time hop again to 2013. My third grader had been gone for a few hours when I received a text message from her school. The elementary had initiated a lockdown. This was not a drill. My heart stopped. Literally. My daughter was in danger, and I had no idea why. The text from the school offered no explanation. Lockdown. Not a drill. Email coming with more information. That is all I had to go on. I have never felt so completely helpless in my life, or so absolutely terrified. I held my phone in my shaking hands, refreshing my email over and over until my thumb was sore. Worst case scenarios were crashing through my brain, tangling with the million questions I was so desparate to have answered. Where was that email?! I reminded myself over and over again that every minute without an email was one spent ensuring my child’s safety. Protecting the students and teachers from whatever necessitated the lockdown was of the utmost importance. I could wait.

Ten minutes after the initial message, the email finally came through. A suspect had run from the police, disappearing on the school grounds. He never came into the school. The lockdown was a precaution. My daughter had never truly been in danger. The relief I felt was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

I kept that text message on my phone for a long time. It served as a reminder that, come what may, my children were in good hands. Practice makes perfect, and the school performed flawlessly that day. Unlike in the months following Columbine, there are no questions, no “what ifs”. The value of those drills became, in my eyes at least, immeasurable.

Perhaps more important, however, that message reminded me to take a minute out of the chaos that is my morning to hug my girls goodbye, to tell them I love them, and to wave as they walk away. In the two years that have followed the most terrifying ten minutes of my life, I have been by their side as my children walk out the door. Every single day. Because this time our story had a happy ending, but sadly happy endings are not a guarantee.

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Emily Ringo
I am a Cincinnati girl, born and raised. After a brief hiatus to attend the University of South Carolina (go Cocks!), my husband and I moved back home with a 1 year old in tow (she's now 10!). Since then, we have added three more kiddos to our family (ages 6, 4 and 2), and I am lucky enough to hang out with them all day. We love reading, getting crafty, and making huge messes that we will definitely clean up...tomorrow. When I'm not surrounded by children, I dabble in exercise, enjoy reading a good book, and can frequently be found binging on Netflix with my favorite guy. About a year ago, a Pinterest “I can do that!” project painting little superheroes for my son turned into an Etsy shop (etsy.com/shop/woolyllama) which I manage to run in my “free time”. I may be slightly sleep deprived, but I wouldn't trade a minute of my crazy, busy, wonderful life!

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