On a sunlit chilly afternoon last week, the fire department came to visit. This is an annual event, and one that second graders greet with enthusiasm. They are always enthralled by the equipment and excited to share what they already know about fire safety. They also anticipate being able to clamber in and out of the fire truck and ambulance and maybe even try on a helmet. What’s not to love?
After touring the ambulance, we sat on the pavement in front of the fire truck, listening to the fireman talk. Suddenly, a radio squawked to life. In between static, we could hear blips of the incoming transmission, including something about “medical call” and “a four year old.” Everyone started shuffling and whispering, eyes wide, watching the professionals confer and click into gear. Within moments the ambulance crew had quickly departed in response, and the fireman had resumed his presentation. After a few more murmurs of “What’s going on?” and “Did you hear that?”, the kids settled back in to listen.
Except for one of them.
J. was slouched within his hooded sweatshirt, and I could see that he was still talking to his neighboring classmates, though they were mostly ignoring him, intent on answering the fireman’s questions about “Stop, Drop, and Roll!” J’s a big kid who vacillates between maintaining a tough guy veneer (second grade swagger?) and indulging his penchant for silliness. He can struggle with meeting expectations. I went over to check in.
“What’s up, J.?” I asked him.
“They said it was a four year old,” he said.
I reassured him that it was a medical call and that the ambulance left quickly so that they could help whoever it was who needed them.
“But I’m scared,” he said.
“It’s okay,” I reiterated. “Help is on the way for them.”
“But I thought it was a shooter. Was it a shooter?” he asked in a tremulous voice.
“No, J, it isn’t a shooter,” I said, suddenly struggling to form words. “It was a family who needed help, and help is on the way. You’re okay. We’re all safe.”
“So it’s not a shooter?” he asked.
I rubbed his back and reassured him some more. “No. There’s no shooter, J. That family is getting the help they need, and we’re safe. We’re all okay.”
“Oh, okay” he murmured, “I just thought it was a shooter.”
I sat beside him for the rest of the presentation, stunned and heartbroken, wondering if my words were even true, because in our country, firearms are the leading cause of death in children and adolescents. Our national priorities are horrendously skewed, and I’m really not so sure that we’re all safe and we’re all okay.
Nix the comfort zone 
What I see here is a compassionate teacher who is in tune with the worries of her students. We carry the whole world on our shoulders.
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This moment has stayed with me.
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Poignant story! I feel J. Perhaps, you can find out in a general way what happened to the four-year-old for J and your second graders so they have one small building block to believe they are safe and do not have to worry about every uncertainty. Damn, it’s good you are his teacher!
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Later, we did find out that we’d all misheard, and it was actually a 40 year old. I didn’t get any more details though. These kids were also all directly impacted by the Lewiston shooting and days long lockdown two years ago. 😦
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Oh, my god, Molly. This is so heartbreaking. Your retelling of J’s repetitions of shooter. Wow. And then your simple true bomb at the end. “I’m really not so sure that we’re all safe and we’re all okay.” I’m so sad for the worries children have today.
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Me, too.
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Heartbreaking.
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As I read your post, I shivered. And I remembered my oldest son telling me four years ago that he was glad I was retiring because there was too much school violence. That also broke my heart…
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I simply can’t understand why our country just seems to shrug off gun violence. Firearms, in one way or another, are the #1 cause of death for children and teenagers. It’s both appalling and horrifying.
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It is heartbreaking that a 7 year old would think about gun violence as a first reason for calling an ambulance. Yet, I must admit I worried about just that in reading your post….sigh….this is NOT ok….
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Definitely not.
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Kids need a safe outlet for their questions – especially those that vividly share their experiences. We’d rather see positive experiences but yet are also grateful when students can layer on new, positive reactions!
Well written!!!
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OMG! I was thinking about “second grade swagger” as a thing when this took a heartbreaking turn. We are not okay. I write about this reality often.
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It’s a pretty heartbreaking reality.
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Oh Molly. Our young students have so much to worry about–which leaves us in the weird space of reassuring them that they are safe, even when we aren’t so sure. You have such a way with capturing the textures of a moment through your description and dialogue. Glad to hear that the problem was not about a 4 year old. But also hope the 40 year old is okay.
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It’s a weird space for sure!
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His fear and worry came through so vividly here, I felt like I was you, trying to ease his concern with words I was wondering were true or not. 😔
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