February 24, 2018

I spend most of my day sitting next to kids on the carpet, on the floor.

I spend most of my day being hugged by kids that aren't as tall as me. 

I spend most of my day having kids come up to me and touch my hair, my pretty skirt, or my shirt or my necklace because they are about to compliment me.

I spend most of my days being approached suddenly from behind with big hugs or arm casually laid on my shoulder- "Hey Mrs. Riedmiller!"

I spend most of my days letting my kids know that they have a voice and that they matter. Not just when they are older, but they matter now. 

I spend most of my days helping children learn about the injustices of the world, helping them build empathy by humanizing groups of people that have continuously been dehumanized. 

I have spent some of my days being physically threatened by children.

I have spent some of my days seeing children throw stools across my room. During those days, I see the looks on the faces of the other children in my class. Fear. Furniture can do that.

I have spent some of my days giving worry stones to some of my friends with anxiety- the ones who are a nervous wreck almost all of the time.

I have spent some of my days consoling nine and ten year olds who are hysterically crying because something is out of place. A paper, a pencil, something is not right and it feels like the world is over.

Sometimes my own children get to visit my classroom. My youngest runs through a carpet full of nine year olds to get to me quickly, she jumps in my lap suddenly.

You- do not get to tell me that I should carry or have a gun in my classroom.

Add a gun holstered to my waist or under my arm to any of these situations and perhaps you will see how dangerous that could possibly be. Add in the traumatic experiences that some kids have already had with guns in their short nine or ten years of life and perhaps you will see how dangerous that could possibly be. 

You- do not get to tell me that I should carry or have a gun in my classroom.

You- do not get to suggest training me, arming me and then expecting me to shoot and kill a child, possibly a current or former student of mine, in the midst of a high-stress situation.

You- do not get to tell me that we all of a sudden have some money that we can find for guns and teacher training.

Where is this money when kids spend their weekends hungry, when they come to school with no supplies, when our kids sometimes don't have roofs over their heads, or when every teacher I know spends a small fortune of their own money on their work, in some capacity.

Where is this money when teachers need training and time to hone in on their craft? Where is it when we need books for our classroom libraries? Where is it when we need CERTIFIED FULL TIME LIBRARIANS IN EVERY BUILDING- but instead get NONE?

You- do not get to tell me that I should carry or have a gun in my classroom.

Do not try to compromise with me, do not try to open a discussion in which your objective is to change my mind. My post does not serve the purpose of civil discourse on this topic- not today, not ever. 

Because I will not refuse to sit on the carpet, on the floor, next to my kids.
Because I will not give up the daily hugs.
Because I will not bring more worry into our space.
Because I will not stop talking to kids about how their voices can and will make change.

Because I will never point a gun at a child and pull the trigger.