Fear

I can't think of three more terrifying words to a teacher's ears than "shooter on campus" (though "irate parent calling" and "report card deadline" are certainly up there). This week, as my grade level's third-string leadership representative, I went to a meeting about lockdown and other emergency procedures that was led by the Head Safety Dude from the district office. We discussed questions like whether to evacuate during a bomb threat (at the risk of encountering bombs on the field or a rooftop shooter with a sea of defenseless targets) or stay put and hope it's a hoax; and what to do if a child knocks on the classroom door asking to come in during a lockdown (leave the child outside alone, or open the door and possibly find a shooter off to the side?). Let's just say it was a parade of terrifying hypothetical situations I hope none of us are ever faced with, and that I left briefly considering becoming a telemarketer and homeschooling my children.

I get that these types of training are an unfortunate necessity, that knowledge and preparedness are power, and that willful ignorance is not bliss (or safety). That doesn't make me feel any less like wetting my pants when I try to imagine putting any of this training to use, though. I've been robbed at gunpoint twice before (once with Bear, once alone) back when we were video store cashiers, but that was before I really had much of a sense of how fragile life is--and long before I was a parent with children to protect. Was it scary? Well, duh. But as a teenager, I still had that "it can't happen to me" attitude that kept me from being too traumatized by what-ifs, and I was able to (mostly) forget about both experiences afterward. Almost fifteen years later, a one-sentence headline about something like the Giffords shooting fills me with a million times more fear than standing a few feet away from an armed robber ever did...because now I know crazy stuff can happen to anyone, at any time, and that no one is immune.

None of this is to say that I go through life paranoid or having panic attacks about random, highly unlikely acts of violence I have no control over, anyway. I don't. It does mean, however, that when I was stupid enough to almost run out of gas in a bad neighborhood an hour from home a few nights ago (with a broken cell phone, no less), I was under no illusion of safety. Noticing two young men in big hoodies standing near their car in one pod of gas pumps, I almost decided to risk driving around for another gas station, but ended up deciding to make a quick stop at the other pod, where a harmless-looking middle-aged man was already pumping his own gas. (Yes, I know it's impossible to tell whether someone is dangerous by looking at them. In this case, it really boiled down to whatever my real or imagined Spidey Sense told me, and Young Loitering Guys seemed like bad news, whereas Older Minding His Own Business Guy felt okay. All three were seemingly Caucasian, so while I may be guilty of age-ism or sexism, race wasn't a factor). I got my pump going and locked myself in my car while I waited; just as Older Guy drove off and my gas finished pumping, I saw one of the Young Loitering Guys head over in my direction.

Maybe the guy just wanted to borrow a dollar, or make friendly 9pm gas station conversation. I'll never know. What I do know is that my blood immediately ran cold and my heart felt like it was going to explode when I jumped out to remove the gas pump and he approached me. I threw the pump back in place, jumped into my car, hit the power door lock, and took off with my gas cap still hanging from the side of my car. Sorry, Buddy--if you really just needed a cough drop, I was terribly rude. If you intended to store my body parts in your freezer, though, I'm very much NOT sorry!

I guess fear can be a good thing if it causes us to be more careful. In fact, Head Safety Dude was asked at our leadership meeting whether the reason for a lockdown should be announced over the school speaker system, and he replied, "Absolutely. If it's a drill, people should know not to panic. If there's a shooter on campus, they *should* be scared--it may keep them from taking dangerous risks" (or something to that effect). To that end, you won't find me playing "Is There Enough Gas To Get Me Home?" anymore. When it comes to the girls, though, it's tough to figure out when and to what degree we should start putting The Fear of Strangers into them. Right now, the idea of someone purposely harming someone else isn't even on their radar, and part of me would like to keep it that way as long as possible. As they start venturing further and further from our arms' reach and into schools, friends' homes, and our neighborhood, I know that'll have to change...but I'm not looking forward to it.