I hate to do the third depressing blog entry in a row - but then, that is how bad luck always seems to come - in groups of three. And it would be impossible for me to write anything lighthearted anyway. For the first time in my life, one of those rampage killing sprees you hear about in the news has affected me directly - as in, I personally know some of the victims.
When a psychotic man drove 80 mph through the narrow streets and pedestrian zones of the capital city on Saturday, intentionally running down people in his path, one of the groups he trained his sights on was four kids from my husband’s school and one of them was a former student of mine. She and one other managed to jump out of the way, but the other two were hit. One of those two is now in intensive care with a myriad of serious injuries It’s too early to tell how she will come through it all.
What has helped the most today has been going into crisis intervention mode. Helping my husband arrange for a trauma team to be available for his affected students, contact all the teachers and arrange for homeroom sessions in the first hour of school on Monday, collect information from all the affected families about how the kids are doing . . . Trying to help helped me fight off the terrible thoughts. But now it is late in the evening and there is nothing I can do. Those thoughts are floating up to the surface . . .
My lovely 16 year old former student, who, right now, is trying to fall asleep. Mostly she is worrying about her friend, but somewhere deep in her subconscious, shoved down in some corner, is the thought.
Someone tried to kill me.
Some future day, that thought is going to come rushing up to the surface, heading straight toward her, and this time, she won’t be able to jump out of the way.