The Great Shakeout was today. It’s something that California does to prepare for an actual earthquake, and one of the many hoops that schools jump through in case there is actually an emergency situation. Don’t worry that kids were baking in the sun out there for over half an hour–it’s preparation for something that might happen.
So, yesterday was the PSAT, today was the Great Shakeout, and in the next few days, I have to give the CAASP skills test to sophomores, the same ones who took the PSAT. Compared to other states, the level of testing here is not even a big deal, but the days that are taken from you, as a teacher, start to add up over the year. Of course we want rigor, and bell-to-bell instruction, and collaboration, and walking around campus with our proud chests puffed out, but the bottom line is that many teaching days and minutes are taken from us for the sake of ticking boxes.
And yet, with all the talk of emergency situations, with all the worries of shooter situations, with all the violence that occurs in schools with guns and other weaponry, our school has consistently turned down a free shooter-situation presentation from a former Marine, who works for our city’s police department, AND who travels all over the world giving emergency-preparedness training and seminars for companies, big and small. He’s been everywhere, man.
But we have turned him down at our school, more than once. He did a demonstration for our district a year or two ago, and a couple of higher-ups from North High were there, but none of the information was ever relayed to us. The one time we were given the presentation by Torrance PD was from two officers who were not familiar with our school and its many escape routes.
However, rumor has it that, this year, we will be taking the offer of the professional mentioned above. Hello, 21st century. Good day, step-in-the-right-direction. Nice to hear, “we’ve-turned-a-corner.”
I can’t wait. For now, my windows are covered, my doors can lock, we have some food and a make-shift toilet in the room; ticking the box of shooter-preparedness might be next.
Until then, though, thanks to the fake quake, I’m still shaking all over.