We are sitting silently in the back of the room, me and twenty kids squished in the class library. I keep thinking that even if the closet were cleaned out, it could hold eight to ten of them at best. Our three large windows that open to the back of our campus are covered with sheer curtains. Note to self: ask about getting roller shades. Wouldn’t it be better if we just opened the windows and ran? We are the first door next to the exterior door. I bet we could make it to Tate’s house; he lives close. An all-call comes, but it is the wrong one. I’m listening for the right code words before we move or make a sound. Even my most squirrely and active kids have a look of anxiety. My smallest girl looks like she is going to cry. I wish I could grab a picture book and read to them. Finally, the lockdown ends.
