Oh, Child.
I got the news this morning. Four children shot in at a gas station.
(I need to change his name. I am changing his name. When the "17 year old male" in the headline is a boy you knew, that you taught, that you greeted in the hallways at school, that your friend told "be safe" on the last day of break before Thanksgiving, when you know his sister, when his friends are still here in school with you, the headline "17 year old boy killed in shooting" is not a headline, is not a news item, is not an abstraction. It's real as hell. I have changed his name to Child.)
He was in our freshman class. "I just think how could we have done more for him?" said his teacher, my colleague, and it's not a rhetorical question this time. I have been thinking about this all the time, I have been thinking about this particular child.
And what happened in the class we all had together. The two white women and the woman of color. The black and brown boys and girls. The white girl who is also one of those four children.
I need trauma informed teaching skills. I need "a culture of dignity" skills because I am PISSED right now, I've moved on from stunned and I need to maintain the dignity of that white woman in the room and not shame and blame. Because I need to keep remembering effectiveness and longevity.
I need perspective right now and I don't have it.
I'm PISSED.
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