As you know, I'm a teacher. How pompous of me to think I am a superhero, yet there are many references to teachers being labeled as such. "I teach. What's your superpower?" I have that t-shirt. I also have a mug that states, "Teachers are as strong as the Hulk, as quick as Spiderman, as smart as Ironman, and as brave as Batman." Hell, even I have referred to myself as Dumbledore, Master Yoda, and The Professor Xavier himself. Yes, I'm plugging my own work here, too. The gall. The audacity. But hey, I'm a teacher. I can do anything. I'm amazing. I'm a superhero. Right?

How about the shirt that says, "Teachers are as FAST as Superman" because my ass needs to be faster than a speeding bullet if we're looking at that little fact: In America, we've had EIGHTEEN school shootings this year. It's February. And another fact I hate to admit is this: Teachers ARE NOT superheroes. We're just human. Let's talk preschool, shall we?

My co-teacher frantically enters the classroom. She says, "Get Adam. It's his dad. He's here. Hide!" Then she says, "I'm calling the police," and gets on our classroom phone.

Adam's dad does not have custody of his child for reasons relating to domestic violence. The father is lying to the front desk clerk, saying he is an uncle and he wants to pick up his nephew. My co-teacher was there and recognized him. The clerk knew as well, and began to stall him. It is late afternoon, and Adam is the last child in our room. He is three and napping. I grab him from his cot. He does not wake, and snuggles in against me. I hide in the bathroom, quiet as a mouse, holding the sleeping baby.

Holy Guacamole! WHAT? Yes, I am hiding in a bathroom with a 3-year old baby waiting for ... for ... what? My mind races. If that dad comes in, and finds me with his son, what are my options? I can't protect the child from a man clearly larger and stronger than me. Do I just give the child up? If I hand him his son, will I be unscathed? He's going to get his son from me anyway. Should I take a fist in the face for this child? Am I horrible for thinking this? Then my mind goes further. Does the man have a gun? Should I take a bullet for this child? Then the most important question: Why did I choose this profession!?!

Long story short, my co-teacher went back out of the classroom to help the clerk and stall the father. They were successful. The police showed up in a few minutes. The father became violent and was cuffed and taken to the squad car. Adam's mother and grandparents arrived a few minutes after that. I went out a back door onto our playground area where the grandfather met me to take Adam safely home. He slept through the entire ordeal, which maybe lasted 20 minutes.

Fast forward to now. With the 18 shootings, including the recent tragedy in Florida, debates about the safety of American schools have flourished. Today, I read an article from PBS entitled When did it become a teacher’s job to stop a bullet for your child? This takes me back to holding that child in the bathroom. I felt helpless against that man. The teachers who gave their lives protecting those high school students were helpless against bullets.

Something has to be done, but I'm no expert. The article states that teachers "...will be the kind of people who on a bad day will throw themselves in front of our children to protect them." And this is true. But is throwing myself in front of a shooter the answer? In the case of the Florida shooting at a very large high school, it was about 3,000 people against ONE. Those are very good odds. And I can't help but think if teachers were armed and trained, they would be able to stop the offender. Then I quickly slap my American face and scream that guns in school is not the answer. Let's remove the word "armed" and just say trained. Maybe we train teachers to take down a shooter instead of being trained to hide and shield? Like how to tackle from behind? Maybe keeping vests handy to grab before going in for the attack? Again, I am no expert. I'm just thinking, and I wish I had an answer to stop these horrific tragedies.

But it is important to remember I am not a superhero. I am not faster than a speeding bullet. I am not as strong as the Hulk, as quick as Spiderman, as smart as Ironman, and as brave as Batman ...

I'm just a simple, human teacher who wishes I were as rich as Batman.

pbs article
superteacher
superman
batman