Standardized Training in the event of a school shooting

Here’s a thought: I could die at work. Although the internet assures me school shootings are statistically rare, if you follow the news, they don’t feel rare. I’ve been in a classroom since 2017, and as time goes by, Columbine feels less like history and more like a recurring weekly nightmare.

Although my logical brain knows I’m more likely to die in a car crash than being shot at school, the emotional toll of living in such a violent world is exhausting. As the sight of tear stained faces, bunches of flowers, flickering candles and yellow caution tape stretched across yet another school has become ubiquitous, I feel no more prepared as the years have gone by in my teaching career to handle an active shooter either practically or emotionally.

The various hodgepodge of training I’ve received over the years have been ineffective. They’ve ranged from trite to hysterical, and they’ve all had this in common: they’re brief, vague, and don’t offer practical hands-on skills. They certainly don’t inquire about anyone’s thoughts or feelings. Of course this isn’t any one person’s fault - there isn’t a standard way to teach preparedness for school shootings - each district across the country is responsible for their own decision making process when it comes to selecting programs and training. We offer state testing, sure, but you’re hard pressed to find just one program that

The Red Hook Houses told by Gene Bray

The largest Public Housing Project in Brooklyn. I moved here in 2001. I was 46. Oh, I’m a white guy.

My first Saturday night there, I got home around midnight. There’s a bunch of young guys in front of the building. Alright, I cant show any fear. And I don’t. I just take a deep breath…..

And slip around to the back door.

I open it and hear shouting and laughter from many voices. And an alarm is ringing.

I’m goin in, come what may. I walk up the 2 steps, turn the corner and see about 10 young guys and a few women. It gets quiet real quick, making the alarm sound louder. I begin casually weaving through the crowd, nodding my head slightly but avoiding eye contact. The talking begins to get louder. I’m gonna pull this off; if I can just get on the elevator before I have a heart attack.

by Kelsey Sobel

every educator has been trained in when it comes to school shootings.

A widely used program known as ALICE ( alert, lockdown, inform, counter, evacuate) is part of the “newer” phase of school training - instead of sheltering in place, ALICE combines a series of possible reactions/options (if you will) in order to prepare edu- fered outside courses, or asked me either directly or indirectly what might be helpful.

Another program I found through a quick internet search is called “Stop the Bleed” which teaches people how to apply a tourniquet. A teacher friend in a district about twenty five minutes from mine mentioned she’d learned how to apply tourniquets this past year - clearly my school had decided, a few towns down, we didn’t need this training, too.

During our last faculty meeting, worn down by people’s rising nerves, our school resource officer stated plainly: “Run away from the sound of gunfire.” It was the most practical advice I’d ever received.

I have no experience with guns, physical combat, military training or triage. Research shows it’s uncommon for a school shooting to be stopped by a civilian - the incident usually ends in the suspect dying by suicide, fleeing, or being shot by the police. According to The New York Times, “….armed bystanders shooting attackers was not common in the data — 22 cases out of 433. In 10 of those, the “good guy” was a security guard or an off-duty police officer.” cators and students for emergency situations. Some ALICE training will simulate school shootings (this in of itself is highly controversial – too traumatizing? Too real?) However, none of the schools I’ve worked at have offered this training. None of the schools where I’ve worked have of-

But both elevators are on the 14th floor.. Alright. The alarm is the elevators not working. So I casually open the door to the stairwell, step in and….. Explode up the steps. Taking 3 at a time. Eatin’ em up like Edwin Moses used to take the hurdles. As if I’m running from tigers. I’m flyin’....I passed my floor.

I feel stupid walking back down a flight. I go in and lie on the floor. Silence.

Well living here is gonna put me in great shape. Dozing off I realize why they resumed talking. To calm me down.

I ask some of the black guys at work for advice on living in the projects.

‘Don’t kick the dice” was my favorite.

My first week there I was on a crowded elevator and a black guy asked

“Do you live here?”

“Yeah. I just moved in.”

“Why you wanna live around all these black folks?” he said with a smile and a laugh.

“Well, I’m hoping I can learn how to dance.”

The elevator exploded with laughter.. A word aptly spoken is like a kiss on the lips. That’s in the Bible, I think.

With the epidemic of mass shootings increasing exponentially, not just in the United States but abroad, the situation feels overwhelming in its violence. I never predicted that when I became a teacher I would sit in my classroom and imagine jumping out the window - would it be worth the shattered bones to avoid being shot or killed?

I’m getting discriminated against in the delis.

They won’t sell me ‘loose cigarettes’. I’m getting harassed on the street. By the cops. They think I’m buying drugs, and they stop and frisk me a lot. But I love getting frisked. My job drug tests so I don’t smoke. That’s ok though. I can do all the LSD I want.

So yeah, after a frisk, my walk has some serious swag. I’m walkin like Denzel after a hit a coke in that movie Flight Hanging out with black folks is rubbing off on me. Sometimes when I get around white people….I wanna slap em.

Just joking.

I never see drug dealing. There are more chihuahuas than pitbulls.

One difference. In Manhattan when I came home late I always had my key ready. I quit doin that punk move here. Why?

Because the lobby door is always open. It’s much more convenient.

The deli lines can get a little, ah, wavy. Funky. Outta line and off the wall.The trick for any line is don’t panic. Relax and go with the flow. And when the time feels right?

Step to your business.

Americans are uneasy with death. I don’t think the answer is telling people they could die - but being realistic and thorough could be a nice change of pace. Providing educators with options for multiple training along with real world skills they’re interested in learning could help battle the anxieties many of us experience. If there were nationwide standards for training, maybe we would be stronger, together. Maybe we would feel less terrified if every teacher had practiced escaping their buildings enough times so that it became routine. Maybe a shooter would feel less inclined to enter a building. Just maybe. And if I could remove all the guns in the world, I would do that too.

Kelsey Sobel is a public high school teacher and former resident of Red Hook who now lives in New Hampshire with her two dogs & husband.

And if somebody gets waited on before you, who came in later? It’s ok. Enjoy your calmness. And take comfort in knowing that sooner or later, somebody else will get that motherfucker. Whoops. Sometimes you just need a good cuss word.

Now some people see the common areas trashed and jump to conclusions. I know I did.

One early morning leaving for work I see spilled coffee on the elevator floor. Returning 10 hours later, it’s no longer wet. It’s damp and sticky and joined by an empty bag of Dipsy Doodles.

The next morning at 5am the elevator door opens and I see a sad sight. A dropped ice cream cone beside the Dipsy Doodles bag.

Maybe I should clean the elevator? Maybe I should clean my bathroom? I ain’t cleanin’ nuthin.

That evening I see that someone has stepped on the ice cream cone.

The next morning, the scene is beginning to have a certain beauty to it. Like modern art.

That evening the elevator was spotless. Damn. I was wondering what it was gonna look like.

So the elevator is cleaned every 3 days or so.