Scissors by the door. A threadMost years my classroom moves. No matter where my room is, I have scissors by the door. I have anxiety. Thinking about school shootings gives me anxiety. Trying to have control in situations beyond my control helps. So I have scissors by the door.

My plan is simple—hide the kids. Wait by the door. If someone busts in, stab w scissors. Most likely I’ll die, but maybe I’ll save some others in the process. Idk if I could actually harm another human, but @EmergingTrail assures me if lives hung in the balance I could...

This year, I hung my command hook by the door and put my scissors on an o ring. I hung them like I do every year...And then I realized my school-shooting-scissors are next to my cleaners, which are next to my panic button and it was all too much.

And I had to stop and take a minute to take it all in. I have a panic button. I have scissors to stab an intruder. And now I have cleaning supplies to protect my babies...your babies...from a potentially deadly virus. Am I a teacher or a body guard?

Where does it stop? When do we stop asking teachers to do more...be more...accept more...I became a teacher because I want to teach. Because I LOVE teaching and learning. Now you are asking me to do that + be a counselor + a social worker + A BODY GUARD and...I’m just tired.

I love my kids. I love their families. I love seeing them (kids and families) growing and changing. I love supporting them, of hearing the successes and loving them thru the challenges.

I love this job and I can’t imagine doing anything else. But sometimes it’s real heavy. Seeing other educators being lambasted for saying they don’t want to/wont take a bullet for a student is just...heavy.

Every unannounced lock down, once everyone is safely hiding, i text Eric to remind him I love him and that it’s probably nothing but also just in case... At least once a year this happens. Imagine once a year thinking you were going to be killed...at work.