05 February 2010

A Scene From Another Life

Six hours ago, I spent five minutes about six inches away from a angry kid with a pistol. I think it was five minutes, it's hard to be exact. All I know is that he wanted to shoot a kid from our school and somehow he left without anyone getting hurt.

About 3:30 pm, fifteen minutes after dismissal, I went to office the see if everything was alright. All week about a dozen middle school girls had been fighting after school in front of the school. On Thursday, yesterday, several girls had brought knives to school. As I walked toward the office, several teachers and parents were pointing toward the front door and shouting "There's a fight."

I ran out of the door and saw about a hundred kids running and screaming toward a knot of bodies on the ground. I jumped the low fence and ran across the front yard toward the center of the convergence. A tall kid dressed in an oversized, solid-black, cotton sweatsuit got to his feet and ran around the corner. Kids were running everywhere, but most were going around the same corner. Two boys flanked the kid in the sweatsuit and appeared to be with him.

I turned the corner where two school buses were idling. The crowd had thinned out, so I thought it might be over. Then I saw the kid in the sweatsuit and his two friends coming back in a half-trot. The kid in the sweatsuit had a glazed, angry look on his face and his friends were pointing and yelling, "He's over there."

I took a few steps back to see if any of the other teachers or maybe the police were behind me. All I saw was kids running back the way they came, running from the kid in the black sweatsuit. Some were shouting "He's got a gun!" Others were just shouting.

The three kids cut between the buses and headed around to the front of the school. I ran up behind the kid in the sweatsuit. Passing two parents, I yelled at them to call the police. Two of my students, drawn as always to the excitement, were ahead of me and only about ten feet from the kid with the gun.

I yelled at them to get away. One stopped and looked at me, and I turned him around by his shoulders and shoved him away from the scene. The other one continued to run toward the low fence over which the gunman had just jumped. My student climbed over the fence after him. I caught up to him just as he was over the fence. I reached over the fence, grabbed him, and pulled him back over. I screamed at him to get away and threw him away from the scene.

The kid with the gun was just standing there, about fifteen feet in front me. He was looking around and his buddies were jumping, yelling, and pointing. I looked around and saw a four-foot long branch about three-inches thick lying on the ground. I picked it up and walked toward the kid with the gun.

This whole time, he had held the gun under his oversized sweatshirt. I never saw it, but I saw its outline as he ran.

I decided that if I saw his hand start to come out from under the sweatshirt, I was going to hit his wrist as hard as could and then go for his groin, eyes, and throat. The branch was rotten, and I was worried that it wouldn't be solid enough, but it was I had.

I ran toward the kid with the gun, staying behind him. As I got closer, I threw the stick down. I just did. I don't know why.

As I got close to the kid, he and friends turned around and started back in my direction. I had the sense that I was invisible to them. I was just another white teacher who didn't matter. They didn't even look at me as they trotted past. I turned and followed. Kids were still running all over.

The kid with the gun turned back toward the main crowd of students. This time, I put myself directly in his path. I raised my hands, open-palmed, and held them up in front of his chest. I looked him in his eyes and started talking. For the next five minutes or so we were never more than six inches apart.

I kept talking to him in a soft voice saying things like,"You need to go home. Turn around, it's going to be alright, but you've got to stop this right now. The police are coming, you've still got a chance to walk away. If you keep going, this'll land you in jail. Come on, do the right thing, you know the right thing, turn around, time to go home."

I kept my eyes on his eyes, but I could see his right hand shoved under his sweatsuit. I decided that if he pulled it out, I was going to have to leap at him, with him skull aimed for his nose. After that, I had no idea what would happen.

He kept ignoring me. He was about six feet tall and he kept looking over my shoulder and trying to go around me. He would slap my hands away, and I would raise them up again. I kept my body in front of him, but stepped back a bit when he tried to push past me. The only thing he ever said was,"I been to jail. I don't care about jail." Later one of the my fellow teachers told me the kid with gun was a 9th grader from the nearby high school.

Once one of his friends, an eighth-grader at our school, tried to get between us so his friend with the gun could get away from me. He grabbed at my hands, but I kept close to the kid with gun and the other kid couldn't get between us.

During the time I was locked up with the kid with the gun, I had no idea what else was going on around me. My mind was strangely calm. It felt like my mind had split into two pieces. One was acting and responding, and the other was observing and commenting on the activity swirling around me. The acting part moved and spoke and rapidly decided what to do. The observing part noted the danger and shrugged. Yes, this is dangerous, it said, but what else can you do? Oddly, I felt no fear. I felt danger and risk and realization that this could end up very badly. But felt is the wrong word. I thought those things, or rather, the observing mind thought those things.

Finally, the kid with the gun and friends turned and headed away from school. I walked a little way behind them and then stood and watched while they turned down a side street. I waited a bit, until I was sure they didn't return. Turning away, I walked to the front of school to see what was going on there. A boy, he must have been 13 or 14 walked toward me. His arm was draped over the tiny shoulders of very young girl. He was pulling her close to him, trying to protect her. He looked scared. "Where did they go?," he asked. I told him and pointed him in safe direction to walk. He nodded and swiftly headed off in that direction, the young girl glued to his side.

The police arrived 30 minutes later.

4 comments:

maryb said...

wow! You don't say what happened when you finally got away from all the kids and could focus on what happened. I would have lost it at that point. And I would have a hard time going back Monday.

I'm glad you are ok. I'm glad no kids were hurt, including the kid with the gun.

Teach313 said...

Thanks for your concern, mary.

Within an hour of the event, KS and I were sitting at a Chili's eating fajitas. The whole thing seems unreal, or maybe too real. I wonder why I haven't lost it. I really don't know.

My mind keeps turning on other outcomes that would have been much worse. I'm worried about Monday. My principal plans on bringing in the two girls at the heart of this to talk it out. When I heard that this was the solution the DPS police and she had come up with, I was amazed. The person who told me asked me what I thought. I just shook my head.

This conflict has gone past the talking stage. We've climbed the East Side ladder - fists, knives, guns. On the East Side, guns that get pulled out get used. I'm concerned that the Detroit Police are not involved. The conflict between the males may have started with the females, but it won't end there.

I'm going to email my principal and make suggestions about getting a handle on this. We need to find out what churches these kids families go to and get the preachers involved, for example. We need the Detroit police there to make the point that this mess will have serious consequences. We need a map of the social/family relationships involved in the conflict so we can watch that other family members don't get involved. There's a lot to do and I don't have faith in my principal's ability to know what to do or to get it done.

My biggest worry is how I will feel Monday when school is dismissed. Will I go outside to help prevent fights? I don't know.

I don't know what it will feel like going back on Monday, but I am going back.

maryb said...

All of those are great ideas. I hope your principal shows some common sense.

AmyinMotown said...

Jesus Murphy. This is inexcusable -- both what happened and the utter lack of response to it from the union, the police and your principal. Where are the parents of these kids and what the hell are they teaching them?

I fear that society has just broken down too far in Detroit to ever be redeemed. The way you describe your school, it sounds like utter chaos with a few brave people struggling vainly to enforce standards of behavior.

I hope you get help in dealing with the aftereffects of your courageous act, and some support from school and union leadership.