Reflecting on the 11th anniversary of Sandy Hook

I’m not yet a year and a half into my career. It will be 2 1/2 years until I lose my first student, my first lovely, to bullets. I’ll be told I’m lucky it took that long. It is December 2012, and on this particular Friday morning, my lovelies and I are huddled in the corner of my classroom. In a few years, when we do this, it will be because we’re hiding — as far away from the door as we can, silent and still. When that eventually happens, every time I will feign calm, and every time, because I never know if it’s a drill or a disaster, I will text my family.