I participated in yet another active shooter drill at my school this week.
“Death to the infidels!” shouted Mr. O’Grady, one of my fellow teachers, as he stormed the classroom with a Nerf blaster rifle.
I had stuffed myself under a table in another teacher’s reading nook.
But it did no good.
One of the soft yellow balls came sproinging out of the gun and bounced off the carpet into my groin.
Then someone blew a whistle and the scenario was over.
The classroom full of teachers collected ourselves from behind overturned tables and under desks before uncertainly getting to our feet.
“Who got hit?” asked the principal as he poked his head into the room.
A flurry of hands went up including mine.
The students had been dismissed about an hour earlier. The body count was made up entirely of faculty and staff – teachers, administrators, security guards…
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