My Teacher Threatened To Expel Us If We Hid From A Shooter. I Disobeyed Her And Saved My Classmates. Now She’s Claiming She’s The Victim?
The Lockdown Protocol
My teacher refused to lock down during a real school shooting, even blocked the light switch while gunshots got closer. When I begged her to let us hide, she said,
“Sit down or you’re expelled.”
I just stared at her. That was one year ago. Last week, she was led out of her apartment in handcuffs.
I was in Miss Brown’s AP History class when the lockdown announcement crackled over the PA.
“Lockdown, lockdown. This is not a drill.”
We’d done this drill a hundred times since kindergarten: lights off, hide in the corner, stay quiet. Simple. Everyone started moving automatically, but Miss Brown stepped in front of us with that look she gets when someone questions her authority.
“Get back to your desks now.”
Her voice had that edge that meant business.
“I didn’t approve any lockdown drill today.”
I raised my hand out of habit.
“But Miss Brown, we’re supposed to—”
“The only procedures you follow are mine. Sit down or you’re all getting zeros on your presentations.”
Then she launched into her whole speech, the one about respect and how her generation didn’t need constant handholding.
A Teacher’s Authority
Here’s the thing about Ms. Brown: she was one of those teachers who was super strict about weird stuff but lazy about actual teaching. She’d mark you absent for being 30 seconds late but give everyone A’s on essays she obviously hadn’t read.
I once turned in a paper with a whole paragraph about Spongebob in the middle just to test it. Got a 98. So most of us sat back down. Nobody wanted to risk their GPA over what was probably just another drill.
But then the announcement repeated.
“Code Red. This is a Code Red. All staff and students follow lockdown procedures immediately.”
That never happens in drills. They announce it once and that’s it. My stomach started doing this weird flip thing, the same feeling I get before a big test I didn’t study for, except worse.
I kept glancing at the door. The hallway was still bright, fluorescent lights blazing. In drills, teachers always turn off their lights immediately. Then I heard it. Pop. Like firecrackers.
Text Messages from the Outside
But not everyone’s. Phone started buzzing at once. I pulled mine out under my desk. My boyfriend Tyler was in chemistry two halls over. His text made my blood freeze:
“Hiding in supply closet. Someone has a gun. Where are you?”
More texts flooding in.
“Behind filing cabinet in main office.”
“Under Mr. Garcia’s desk.”
I showed Miss Brown my phone.
“My boyfriend says there’s someone with a—”
“I see what’s happening here. You think you can stage some elaborate prank to get me in trouble? Get me fired?”
The popping sounds were getting louder, closer. Someone screamed in the hallway. Not a fun scream, not a playing around scream.
“That’s probably drama class practicing,”
Ms. Brown said, but even she didn’t sound sure anymore.
I could see Mr. Peterson’s class across the hall. Lights off, no movement, just darkness where 20 kids should have been. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely type.
“Henderson won’t let us hide. Still at desks.”
“Tyler what? Get to safety now.”
Ben tried next, sweet Ben who never argued with anyone.
“Ms. Brown, please, this feels real.”
“Feelings aren’t facts, Ben. Sit down.”
