Note: Description of an obscene gesture apparent. Do not read if you will be offended.
I never thought it could happen to my school. I never thought going to school could cost me my life. I never thought I would be afraid. But it has happened; but going to school could cost me my life; but I am afraid.
A rumor of impending doom descended onto my school a month ago, in March, like a heavy, gray cloudbank, as well as onto my heart and soul. At times I am near tears because of this danger. It’s not supposed to happen, it’s not supposed to happen! I am nobody, therefore who would want to kill me?
One month ago, a publicity poster for a play was defaced; instead of promoting the play it promoted the remake of a Columbine-like disaster. I never thought much about it, nor knew about it, until classmates in my first period joked about it a few weeks after the incident occurred. Concerned, I alerted my mother about the problem, and she asked me to obtain more information. I did, and both our fears were assuaged.
April Twentieth crept closer. Hype rose to an alarming level. My school held a meeting to try and calm parents and students down. It worked for my mother; she allows me to make my own decision, and I decide to go to school. Hype shoots skyward when Eyewitness News televises the rumor. My anger burns; how dare they televise such an unsubstantiated rumor! The night before Friday I see that the TV set is tuned to that station. Furious, I raise my fist, and extend my middle finger in meek protest. It is a silly attempt, but it is all I can do at the time. When the day is over, I intend to call the station or write them a letter, explaining how they made approximately two-thirds of the school stay home in fear for his of her life.
I realize that many may not have been scared, which makes the problem even worse. These callous students took advantage of the fear and high-tailed it to the beach, or the mall, or some other place of interest.
I went to school on the twentieth, and nothing happened. Why did I go to school? The incident occurred a month ago; it was a public incident, not students confiding in teachers or administration, saying that one of their friends was going to take a gun and go postal on the school; it was a matter of principle. Was I going to allow one incident that occurred a month ago to get to me, to freak me out? I did, somewhat; the last two days before the day I would cry while I prayed to Him, asking Him to protect those that attended school that day, and please have nothing bad happen.
Two years ago, a somewhat similar event happened to me. A girl would incessantly harass me about my looks, an occurrence I thought I had left at the middle school I attended. Ultimately, I stood up to the girl, using age-old maturity tactics that I never had the guts to use before. And yet I still cried over the matter, saying this girl had destroyed my hopes of achieving peace. My mother set me straight by telling me that by crying, I was giving in to this girl, something I definitely did not want to do. So, by going to school, I was proving to myself that I was strong, that I could look a prankster in the eye and tell him or her I was unafraid of them.
And I did.
