Erin DeRosa
From Prada to Payless

View more columns

A world of why? And I don't know

It was 1977. I was in first grade in Mrs. Berryman's class.

She wore way too much pressed powder and coral lipstick. I can still see the way the powder caked on her nose.

Every so often we would have fire drills. These were great. We got to stop what we were doing and go outside.

It shortened whatever subject you were in, which was great unless you were eating your lunch or waiting for a swing.

Then not so great.

On a few occasions we would have some sort of drill where the principal would walk around with a bullhorn and make this strange sound from it and we would either have to get under our desks and pull the chairs in behind us or line up in the hall, face the wall and cover our heads with our arms.

We had to remain totally silent until it was over.

I still remember seeing Mrs. Berryman trying to get under her desk.

This drill disturbed me when I found out what we were doing. It was an air raid drill preparing us against an air attack. I am guessing a nuclear bomb.

I always wondered how being under my desk or facing the wall was going to protect me or even save me, but I did what I was told and tried to put my worries about a war and images of Hiroshima to the back of my mind.

It was just a few months ago that David and I had to sit our girls down and tell them that if someone came into their school or classroom or movie theater or the mall shooting a gun, they must immediately drop to the floor and play dead.

I felt sick having to tell them this.

Even worse was hearing how they have preparations within their classrooms.

Our kids are growing up thinking this is normal. Shootings, and now bombs going off, don't seem shocking to them.

I know this because as we watched the images on the news the other night, before I finally turned off the TV when the images became graphic beyond words, they seemed saddened by what had occurred but generally not shocked.

They are aware of shootings. They are aware of "bad guys." More so than I was aware of these things at their ages.

My fear was a bomb being dropped on us by the Russians or some scary looking guy luring me into his van with candy.

I never in my wildest nightmares imagined a world where doing the simplest thing like going to school or the movies or cheering on friends and family in a race would cause me to think: "What if?"

What kind of world do our children think we live in?

Why do we need to tell them about these heartbreaking events?

When they ask why, I have only answer: I don't know why.

I just don't know.

Reader Reaction
Print this ArticlePrint this Article Email this ArticleEmail this Article
Bookmark and Share