Another School Day in America

I check my phone again, adjusting the volume to make sure I can hear it above the voices on my headset.

I don’t want to miss a call, especially *that* call.

I try to remember what the kids were wearing. I silently scold myself for not paying more attention. I was checking Slack, packing my computer bag, rushing to get them out the door. Like it was any other morning.

What if that was the last morning?

Did I remember to say “I love you” as they jumped out of the car and I frantically tried to join a meeting I was already late for? Did I take the time to watch their big backpacks sway side to side as they entered the school, laughing with their friends, oblivious that they may never walk out those doors?

I close my eyes and hope they are too scared to talk as they huddle in the closet as gunfire rings out.

I hope he chooses another room.

I hope I get to see their faces at the end of the day.

I hear my name on Zoom and snap back into the conversation. Only a few more hours until I can stop pretending that everything is OK.