About that Bullet on the Stair
Sometime today, a security officer at my daughter’s school found a bullet on the stairs to the cafeteria.
A bullet on the stairs to the cafeteria.
So the principal sent an email to teachers and made an announcement that they should check their email and business continued as usual. Students had early dismissal, and they went home at the appointed hour.
And the principal sent an email letting parents know a bullet was found on the stairs to the cafeteria but everything was fine. Business as usual. This is America.
Later that night, while I waited for my daughter’s concert to begin, my father emailed me to find out what happened at school. I work in an urban school, so my first move was to google my school to find out what happened. Nothing. Of course—and I knew that . Urban kids don’t get up to the completely fucked up psychological bullshit that rich suburban kids with shrinks can get up to. Down in the city, we’re about hot meals and the peace of a classroom. But the suburbs are different.
I googled Nonnewaug and found out a security officer found a bullet on a stair leading to the cafeteria. The principal sent an email to parents saying it was all good.
I read the email while I was waiting for my daughter’s concert to begin, and I thought, “Fuck you, buddy. It’s not OK that someone found a bullet on a stair in my daughter’s school.”
Because the little hunters who attend this agricultural high school should be told to leave their deer-killing ammo home when they show up to learn about history and science and literature. Not
one of these disciplines requires a bullet to be understood.
So how safe is my daughter at this school?
I’m scared out of my mind. Last year, when the crazy French teacher who showed every sign of being a pedophile harassed my daughter, I took on the school to get rid of this woman. She’s gone. But what a fight to get the principal to get the point.
How to get the principal to understand that if there is a bullet on the stair to the cafeteria, there is a gun-shooting individual on campus who does not have the sense to leave his deadly toys at home and—a big and, so this is a dramatic pause—is therefore a threat to every student on campus?
Andy’s not that bright. He requires multiple episodes of re-teaching. He’s the kind of guy who takes personal calls from his needy wife while he’s having a meeting with the angry parent of an honors student. The guy has no idea what is important or even when he should turn his phone off.
Little boys and or girls are dropping their ammo on the stairs of a public high school in a well-heeled community in a blue state.
Mr. O’Brien, I promise you this: If you don’t keep my daughter safe in your school—Nonnewaug High School—the bullet that got past you today will be the least of your problems.