Sunday, October 31, 2004

We Ain't Got No Stinkin' Terrorists -- I Hope

Remember back when the Justice Department said we should all buy duct tape and bottled water in case the terrorists attacked us with chemicals? Now, do you also remember when about a week later it became clear that that was all bunkum? For one thing, duct taping your doors shut either a) limits your oxygen supply, or b) keeps the chemicals, which are probably already in your house, in your house.

Well, that week at school, we were provided with little plastic box that contained: a (one) bottle of water, a flashlight and two batteries, and a roll of duct tape. We were full of questions, such as: Is this really enough duct tape? One bottle for thirty people? Really? And, What if the batteries go dead after sitting in the box for months? The response was, "Be sure to bring a towel from home to put at the bottom of your door." Of course, all of these questions -- and the demand that we use our own towels -- became moot when the advice was rescinded, so we put the boxes on top of the filing cabinet and didn't worry about them.

So, last week, the principal comes on the PA system. "Students and teachers!" she says. "Stay alert for an emergency announcement!" We all looked at one another, thinking, I don't know, The President's Been Shot, or Osama's Been Captured, or at least The Volleyballs Have Been Stolen Again. She continues, "We are preparing to have a Hide in Place alert. Follow my instructions exactly!" Then she begins to list about fourteen things we are supposed to do, like lock the windows and pull down the blinds, and stay away from the doors ... and get out our emergency boxes with the duct tape and towels. At this point my mind goes off on a tangent, thinking, "Um, is it me? Didn't we decide we weren't doing that?" The kids are also asking lots of questions, and I begin assigning tasks: "Joel, will you get the doors?" "Virginia, yes, you can get the lights." So this lengthy announcement finally ends, and we are left (completely off task now), waiting for the alert to begin. A girl wants to go to the bathroom, but I ask her to wait because surely the alert will begin any moment. Finally, the three beeps that signal an announcement are heard. "This is it," I say, "Go ahead, Joel, Virginia, Mark." The kids scurry to complete their tasks, but a moment later we realize what the principal is now saying. "All clear! All clear!" The alert is now over.

Momentarily, I think it must have been me who missed something, who didn't hear the beginning of the actual alert. But the kids all start laughing. The principal intones, "Teachers, please email me with concerns you have about the drill." One kid says, "How about when it begins??"