Connecticut

I have been selfishly trying not to think about Connecticut since Friday. I can't let myself be affected by this, not when there are children who come running up to throw their arms around my legs when I walk into a room with shouts of, "Miss Mandy! Miss Mandy, can I play with your hair? Miss Mandy, will you swing me around? Miss Mandy, come look at my airplane that I built!"

I don't have time to be affected by this. I don't want to be affected by this.

But I am. We all are. Especially those of us who are educators. I kept overhearing snippets of conversation at work, hearing the teachers talk to each other about what they would do if someone barged in on us with a gun. I didn't comment. I tried not to listen. But those thoughts are in my head, too; they've been in my head since Friday. I think to myself, "If I were in the three-year-old room, those windows are easy to open; I'd get them all out the window, tell them to head for the side of the building, because surely they'd have a better chance out there than cornered in their classroom." And then, "What if I were in the infant room? I can only carry two babies at a time; do I put them all in the closet and shield them? Do I stick them into the evacuation crib, treat it like a fire drill, get them out onto the playground and hope whatever maniac is after them doesn't follow?"

The reality is, there is no way to plan for such a thing happening. Such a thing shouldn't be happening. And it's easy to pretend for a little while that it hasn't happened; it's easy to go to holiday parties, enjoying egg nog  and laughter and gift exchanges, but the fact remains that this has happened. There are children that will never see the Christmas presents bought for them; there are teachers who died trying to protect those children. It happened. And it will happen again if something doesn't change. Something has to change.

In the meantime, we all keep going about our lives as best we can, hoping it isn't our town next time. Hoping it isn't us. And I'll keep looking at the smiling faces and bright eyes of all the children in my life, wishing my arms could somehow be big enough to hold them all at once.