It was on this date in 1999 that two students at Columbine High School in Colorado murdered 12 fellow students and one teacher in an attack that shocked the nation. While subsequent school shooting have been shocking as well, they have also taken on a saddening regularity.
On this 19th anniversary of the shooting, Lake Effect essayist Marnie Mamminga thinks back on the 2nd anniversary, while she was still a teacher in Illinois:
Anticipating violence while getting ready for work was not the way I wanted to start the day. As a high school English teacher, I slipped on pants with pockets to hold my keys and comfortable shoes that I could run in and wondered if my teaching colleagues and students were doing the same. The date was April 20th, 2001, the second anniversary of the Columbine massacre.
As my car approached the school parking lot, my eye caught sight of a blue and white police cruiser slowly circled the school. Just in front of me, another cruiser turned into the lot and positioned itself by the front entrance. A third one took a position across the street. I felt my heart beat a little faster, and I took a deep breath.
Walking into the school, I was joined by two teaching colleagues. Both were dressed similarly to me. One was pregnant with her first child; the other was set to retire in June. All three of us said how nervous we were and how eerie it was to see the police cars presence.
On this second anniversary of the Columbine massacre, rumors of impending violence at our school had been circulating for weeks, but many other area schools had received actual threats.
The day before, our principal reassured the students over the audio system that all circulating rumors of possible violence had been thoroughly investigated and were unfounded. It was safe to come to school tomorrow, and he encouraged students to do so.
However, after school, we faculty found bright pink slips of instructions waiting in our mailboxes requiring us to immediately go to the library. Addressing a hushed audience that included custodians, secretaries, teachers, and administrators, our on-campus police liaison officer and the city’s police superintendent reassured us in more detail that the rumors of intended violence against our school, which they had been tracking down for weeks, were unfounded.
To ease students’ fears and to be on the safe side for the unexpected, however, there would be plain clothes police officers on duty throughout the day as well as squad cars positioned around the premises.
We were all given written procedures to follow in case of a “major disturbance”.
Those teachers and staff not in the classroom were told to report immediately to the administrative offices for a new assigned duty; classroom teachers were to lock their doors (which required us to step out into the hallway), shut windows and blinds, and herd students into the least observable corner.
Obviously, because this was in the early years of horrific school shootings against our nation’s students, no one really knew exactly how to prepare for such catastrophes.
I did not sleep well that night nor, I’m sure, did many others.
When I walked into the teacher workroom Friday morning, I noticed running shoes were in high fashion. Many teachers had packed their personal cell phones (a novelty at the time) beside their lesson plans “just in case.” Several of us discussed escape plans from our classrooms if a situation should arise. We all wondered what we would do if we actually came upon someone with a gun.
“I am not a hero,” said one teacher with tears welling in her eyes. “I’d be thinking of my family, my family!”
When I took attendance for my first hour class, I discovered half of them were absent. Risking paranoia, I told the students I was locking the door. In case of an emergency, here was the game plan. No point in beating around the bush. The students were calm and went about their work, quietly discussing among themselves the obvious presence of the extra police officers and the weirdness of the day.
When lunchtime arrived, usually a jovial and chatty break in the day, everyone was on high alert. The cafeteria was somber and hushed. Many staff commented that we never thought when we earned our education degrees we’d be facing a day like this.
Finally, the last class of the day arrived, and as I locked my door, I discovered once again that half of my students were absent.
“With so many gone, can we just take the hour off and play a game?” my students pleaded.
My own fatigue and mental exhaustion from the day’s tension made the thought very tempting. But I knew idleness would not bring solace, so I plunged ahead with my lesson plan. Who would have guessed a grammar lesson could have such power to keep a class calm?
Fifteen minutes before the end of school, the principal came on the audio system with a parting message. He applauded the students for their attendance on this day of rumored violence, noting that 480 students had chosen to stay home.
Then in a surprise announcement, he introduced a student who had been at Columbine during the shooting two years ago and who had recently transferred to our school. He asked her what words she could offer to ease students’ fears. Taking deep breaths, she spoke eloquently, encouraging her peers to have courage, to keep faith in the system, and to not let the wicked win.
My students were spellbound and hung on every word. Afterwards, they talked with admiration of her bravery and seemed to hold their own heads a little higher at their own courage for coming to school.
At long last, this agonizing day of anticipating possible violence came to and end, and students and staff swiftly and gratefully exited the school into the warm embrace of bright sunshine. Band members with flags began setting up rehearsal in the commons. The spring sports teams ran out to the practice fields. The fresh smell of newly cut grass lingered in the air.
Peaceful scenes of youthful innocence. The way it should be.
Little did we know how many more horrific school shootings were to follow Columbine in the years ahead.
Let the nightmare end.
Lake Effect essayist Marnie Mamminga is the author of several books, including Return to Wake Robin and On a Clear Night.
