Marissa Glover
Active Threat Plan
A school-wide announcement over the intercom:
Barricade the door. NOW.
Nothing else is said.
That’s how students and teachers know
this is not a drill. For once, students are silent.
They do what they’re told, pushing
cabinets in front windows, turning
desks on their side like shields, dragging
them to the safest corner, cowering
on the ground, squeezing
into closets.
The frantic texting to parents
begins. Terrified IDK’s and
love you’s fly on crow wings.
Law enforcement descends
on campus. Walkies squawk.
Parents drive to the school, ready
to run inside like they saw on TV.
It’s mostly mothers, sharing posts
from social media. Some dads yell
about action, say we should install
metal detectors like the big cities do.
The principal robocalls, praising
police, students, staff for their handling
of the situation—an anonymous tip and a kid
who came to school with an Airsoft gun.
The recorded message: There was never any
real threat, no one was ever in any real danger,
everyone followed the ATP perfectly.
Teachers shake as they move
the desks back into rows and resume
the lesson. Students are on Snapchat,
skull emojis and LOLs.
Some parents sign their kids out—
let them go home early and play
shooter games on Xbox: the brain
triggering a protective barrier
around itself, shutting down
what it’s too young to process,
practicing self-defense from the couch.
Everyone pretends they know what to do.