Today is the ten year anniversary of the shootings at Columbine. While I wasn't in high school at that time, I still feel a strong connection with the events that transpired. Everyone in this community has a story; everyone has certain emotions that bring back the memories of that day.
Ken Caryl Middle School, where I was that day, is a short 1.5 miles from Columbine. It was a day full of confusion. Our school was put in lockdown from the moment we got word of what was happening at Columbine. But we students weren't told anything. The teachers were periodically switched out while they went into the teachers lounge and watched what was happening on tv. They would come back and tell us nothing, but I remember reading the fear on their faces. We all asked what was happening. We were left mostly in the dark. All they told us was that something was going on at Columbine and a student was shot in the foot.
I remember being fearful that our school would be next. Why else would they force us to stay in the same classroom for the entire day? But my first concern was my brother. He was at the school. I kept telling myself that only one person had been shot (as far as we were told) and so what were the chances it was Aaron? This thought ran through my mind over and over again.
The day went slowly along. I had a substitute teacher that day, and later I found out she had a son at the school as well. I have only admiration in the way she handled herself and tried to comfort us while she was in her own agony. She put in the movie Angels in the Outfield. I haven't been able to watch that movie since.
When the final bell rang for the day and only a few of us were left, we finally persuaded our teacher to let us turn on the news. I still don't know if that was a good idea or not. The horror that I saw on that screen was unexpected. It was the first time that day I had to work hard to hold back the tears.
We could only leave the school if a parent checked us out. I wasn't able to leave until close to 4 pm. I remember there were so few of us at that point they were moving us all into one room in the school; as we were walking in the hallway I saw my mom and I remember just running to her and crying. It was obvious that tears had been falling from her eyes for some time now.
Aaron was ok. A relief flooded my body.
I image the anguish a parent felt during that day. I remember the fear. I remember the tears.
But more vividly I remember the love. I remember the hugs. I remember the togetherness. I remember seeing endless flowers span the entirety of Clement Park. I remember looking at those around me and seeing God's love pour from their souls. During this time of grief I saw faith flourish. I remember not being afraid to say I love you.
I went to the Memorial this morning.
I still feel that love.
Ken Caryl Middle School, where I was that day, is a short 1.5 miles from Columbine. It was a day full of confusion. Our school was put in lockdown from the moment we got word of what was happening at Columbine. But we students weren't told anything. The teachers were periodically switched out while they went into the teachers lounge and watched what was happening on tv. They would come back and tell us nothing, but I remember reading the fear on their faces. We all asked what was happening. We were left mostly in the dark. All they told us was that something was going on at Columbine and a student was shot in the foot.
I remember being fearful that our school would be next. Why else would they force us to stay in the same classroom for the entire day? But my first concern was my brother. He was at the school. I kept telling myself that only one person had been shot (as far as we were told) and so what were the chances it was Aaron? This thought ran through my mind over and over again.
The day went slowly along. I had a substitute teacher that day, and later I found out she had a son at the school as well. I have only admiration in the way she handled herself and tried to comfort us while she was in her own agony. She put in the movie Angels in the Outfield. I haven't been able to watch that movie since.
When the final bell rang for the day and only a few of us were left, we finally persuaded our teacher to let us turn on the news. I still don't know if that was a good idea or not. The horror that I saw on that screen was unexpected. It was the first time that day I had to work hard to hold back the tears.
We could only leave the school if a parent checked us out. I wasn't able to leave until close to 4 pm. I remember there were so few of us at that point they were moving us all into one room in the school; as we were walking in the hallway I saw my mom and I remember just running to her and crying. It was obvious that tears had been falling from her eyes for some time now.
Aaron was ok. A relief flooded my body.
I image the anguish a parent felt during that day. I remember the fear. I remember the tears.
But more vividly I remember the love. I remember the hugs. I remember the togetherness. I remember seeing endless flowers span the entirety of Clement Park. I remember looking at those around me and seeing God's love pour from their souls. During this time of grief I saw faith flourish. I remember not being afraid to say I love you.
I went to the Memorial this morning.
I still feel that love.
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