I haven't been able to turn the memories off all day. I can't even begin to describe the events of that day, but I can relate my own experience. Here it is, through the eyes of a nine year old.
Oh, but first, this video is beautiful. It has a song I wanted to include in this blog. So watch it, and then start it over as you read on? The song was written by Jonathan and Stephen Cohen (brothers who survived the Columbine massacre) not long afterwards, and was played at the memorial service.
I can't really remember much of what happened that morning. I'm sure I got on the bus late, as usual. My major concern was probably the fact that I still had zero friends at this school. It's not really important.
My memories begin with an announcement: The school was in lock down. Please cover all windows with posters or jackets, anything that will prevent someone from looking inside. Until then, keep the students out of sight.
*click*
The voice was gone. That's all we got. My teacher did as she was told, looking extremely worried. I'm not sure how much time passed until things were explained, but the next thing I remember is our principal rushing into the room holding a giant black walkie-talkie, looking pale and frazzled. She explained the situation, everything coming out in one long breath. There has been a shooting at Columbine High School. We don't know a lot of details, but it's possible the shooters are on the loose. The best thing to do is remain calm. Your parents are being notified, and are allowed to come pick you up early.
She rushed back out, leaving our teacher to deal with 30 very confused and panicked fourth graders. I remember someone asking if this would be on the news. I attempted to ask about people I knew who went there, assuming the adult to be all-knowing. "What about Matt and Dan? My brothers girlfriend goes there, where's she?"
My mom came and picked me up early (I think it was around 1 PM). My sister was already in the car. When we got home we sank down and watched the news for 11 hours straight, switching from station to station. For some reason I remember being on the floor, too close to the TV. I recall a few things about the news that day:
1) The clip of an extremely bloody Patrick Ireland attempting escape out of the Library window. I'm not sure why they loved this clip so much, but I must have seen it at least 100 times that day, and many more in the days following.
2) They kept changing their tune. I expected facts; what I got were rash estimations. It's speculated that 30 are dead, many many more injured. No one had any idea where the shooters were.
3) A 911 phone call was played. I don't remember the details, I just have this picture in my mind of the camera panning around the high school, with subtitles of the call running over it.
4) A friend of the family was repeatedly shown, simply saying, "I still can't find my daughter." Obviously they were just re-using this clip to represent so many parents desperately seeking their children, but to my 9 year old brain it was new every time. And every time my sister and I were convinced he still hadn't found her. We kept waiting for the reporter to point them out, running towards each other and finally embracing. It never happened.
At midnight or so, my parents convinced us to go to bed.
School was canceled the next day. I have no idea what we did. Sometime in the days following, we went to an impromptu memorial in a park right next to the school. They had 13 crosses, one for each of the victims.People brought flowers and candles and poems they had written and anything else they felt would honor those lives lost. There were SO many people there, it was hard to move. I can still see students crying in big group hugs, mourning for their friends.
A vague idea of the ridiculous amount of offerings.
What's interesting to me now is that I felt so connected to those people. I didn't know anyone who had died. The people I did know were several years older than me. But we were bonded, somehow. It felt good to be there, a small part of the grief.
Tragedy's power to unify a community never ceases to amaze me. I have seen it time and time again over the years. This was the first time I had really seen it in full force, but even at age nine I recognized it was something rare and beautiful. Every "clique" is thrown out the window. You are all in the same messed up place, and there's something comforting in that. Knowing that you can relate to someone even when the world seems to be falling apart is powerful.
This feeling led to the catchphrase "We are all Columbine" or just "We are Columbine." We are all connected, a community struggling to comprehend something so dark and vile it's difficult to believe it's real.
To this day, I can't drive anywhere in my hometown without seeing a We are Columbine license plate, or a Columbine ribbon bumper sticker. It still makes me smile, every time.
What do you remember about this day?
Love you,
Linds
Lindsay's brother here (pointing that out because I'm not sure she would recognize my screen name if I didn't).
ReplyDeleteI was in 10th grade when this happened, attending Dakota Ridge High School, which is about 6 miles away from Columbine. It started with whispers in the hallway. I don't know how people found out before the official announcement was made over the intercom, but it eventually did come. They didn't want anyone to leave the school for fear that we would head for Columbine. Yeah right - guns, bullets, violence, death? Sure, I'll be right over.
I probably shouldn't be sarcastic in a paragraph talking about a tragedy, but I can't help it - high school brings out the sarcasm in me like few other things can.
In my next period, all we were doing was watching the news. It felt so pointless to stay at school, so as soon as I could, I found my brother and we both drove home. Thankfully, the kindhearted old police officer that was assigned to watch over our school didn't even try to stop us at the door.
Looking back, it's clear that the poor administrators were as powerless to deal with the situation as any of us. For years afterwards, all doors into my school were kept locked during school hours, and for a few months after, a teacher had to sit guard at each one. A police cruiser was parked in a prominent position on the sidewalk, as a sort of bizzarre scarecrow. Feeble, futile measures that would do nothing to guard against an actual assault like the one carried out on Columbine - but what else could be done?
Lindsay mentioned 13 crosses. I think there were actually 15; two were for the shooters, who took their own lives. There was some controversy about that.
I don't remember much about the news broadcasts that we watched. I do remember visiting the park with all the offerings. Several reporters interviewed me, hoping in vain that I would have something interesting to say. Of course I didn't; what could *I* say? I didn't go there; nobody I knew got hurt; I didn't experience any of this directly. Yet, like Lindsay, as a member of the community I felt connected to what happened, and to the people who experienced it directly. We truly were all Columbine.
For years after the shooting, when I told people I was from Littleton, they would immediately recognize the name and connect it to Columbine. These days, that reaction is much rarer. Many people comment that the town sounds familiar, but they can't put their finger on why. I, of course, know perfectly well why, but I don't help them, because I want to see if they can come up with it on their own. It's my little way to guage how far the incident has faded from our collective national memory.
It's even faded from my memory, somewhat. I had forgotten that today was the anniversary of that day. Thanks, Lindsay, for posting this and reminding me.
In closing, here's another song about the tragedy, written by one of my favorite bands from high school: Five Iron Frenzy, who practiced at a band member's house not too far from the school:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Fh36yoWWs4
(Sorry about the poor audio quality - it's Youtube.)
I remember our student leadership teacher pulling us all into a room and explaining what had happened. I remember it being a somber moment for me. Being so far away from it and still so young, I didn't really understand how much it would affect our country and culture.
ReplyDeleteSome birthday that was.
Lindsay, what a powerful piece of writing. It is very moving. People don't forget, not just in the USA but all over the world. Columbine was the main news story on the Scottish news on Monday morning. I think people in Scotland feel so connected to this because we too have suffered with the terrible shootings at Dunblane. So many young lives taken away. A year or so later I met the head teacher from Dunblane. He came to my school and he was a great guy but he had a haunted look in his eye. He knew what we were thinking even though we didn't mention it to him. All schools in Scotlan planted a tree to remember the dead. We still have to make sure all of our exterior doors are locked an we now have a video entrance system. We now live in a world where we don't trust each other. These 2 awful events changed so much for our children. Thank you for writing about it.
ReplyDeleteFiona
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