“It is impossible to address the problem of rampant crime without talking about the moral responsibility of the intended victim. Crime is rampant because the law-abiding, each of us, condone it, excuse it, permit it, submit to it. We permit and encourage it because we do not fight back, immediately, then and there, where it happens. Crime is not rampant because we do not have enough prisons, because judges and prosecutors are too soft, because the police are hamstrung with absurd technicalities. The defect is there, in our character. We are a nation of cowards and shirkers.”²

Jeff Snyder

“So long as assault rifles (sic) like the AR15 are legally sold in this state, so long as they are not banned, their threat to civilians will remain in every school, every mall, every movie theater, every nightclub, and in every place the public gathers.”³

Oscar Braynon, State Senate Democrat Leader, Miami Gardens, Florida.

Dressed all in black, including ski mask, he pointed a gun not hesitating to shoot me in the chest. With sounds of screaming, people scrambling to escape, and the gun shot echoing in my ears, I wondered how it had come to this. I had been a police officer trained in dynamic entry,⁴ hostage negotiation, and firearms but here I was, shot down in a public school. My thoughts drifted back to early morning, 3 November, 2015, where it all began.

Students had the day off but not teachers. High school administrators herded us into the Lecture Hall. What was up? We were being trained to repel attacks by terrorists and active-school “shooters” (sic). Teachers sitting around me, mostly from the English and Math departments, expressed apprehension because none had ever held let alone fired a gun. What did colleagues in my socialIST studies department think? I had no idea. Convicted of being a conservative, I was subjected to the Amish-Shun Syndrome. They sat as far from me as possible. Trainers included city police officers, teachers, and administrators trained in the latest techniques. Considering current policy was assuming the fetal position in classrooms, waiting to be saved or shot, whatever they had in store must be an improvement. Finally this large suburban school district was getting serious about fighting back. Filled with optimism, I scanned the room looking for racks of hangers festooned with body armor, boxes bulging with smoke bombs, tear gas canisters, and flash bang grenades. Maybe there were sign-up sheets for teachers to check out Glock 17s and AR15s. I called dibs on Spikes’ Tactical AR sporting a Crusader on the receiver, the last icon ammonium-nitrate reeking Islamic Jihadi terrorists would see before cashing in on the 72 virgins deal…or is it raisins?⁵ But I saw none of these.

Presenters not only led off with scare tactics and propaganda, they also used students to spew wanton misinformation. For example, they claimed school shootings were on a marked upswing, getting worse, and our lives were in peril. They displayed graphs and charts mounted on easels to drive the point home. For once, gabby teachers were silent. As the student sock-puppets read off alarming statistics, teacher’s brows furrowed their heads nodding in grim unison. But what the sock-puppets and teacher string-pullers were saying wasn’t even true. It was all lies.⁶ It stank like a truck load of fish heads spilled on a Los Angeles freeway.

“Facts” presented about the epidemic rise in school shootings came from Everytown for Gun Safety, a faux grassroots gun control organization. It’s the brainchild of and funded by liberal gun confiscationist former New York City Mayor, Michael Bloomberg.⁷ Everytown claimed 74 school shootings had occurred since Sandy Hook, Elementary, in 2012 and this was the basis for the present state of crisis. Everyone assumed the statistic referred only to mass shootings inside schools. No one seemed aware this statistic had been exposed as bogus. Its definition of “school shootings” included “isolated arguments between students [a gun was discharged but the suspect had no intent to shoot anyone] accidents, suicides, and gang activity.” It included every incident in which a gun was discharged, accidental or not, even if no one was struck. And it included shootings occurring near, but not actually on school property, having nothing to do with the school and or its students. Worse, it included gang related shootings in Baltimore and Chicago’s inner cities, with schools nearby, dramatically ratcheting up the statistic.⁸ If thugs shot it out in an alleyway, or fired at a rival’s homes in a drive by, and a school was in the neighborhood, Everytown counted it as a “school shooting.” But as far as teachers were concerned, based on this statistic, there was an epidemic of “school shootings.” Is it appropriate to harness students to promote a fraud? Appalled, I began telling those around me this information was false, lies. A few looked at me but none responded. No one speaks to those upon whom the principal’s disfavor rests. Why didn’t I take the floor and address this charade of indoctrination and idiocy? Being the victim of a witch hunt (May, 2015) taught me, when they’re looking for witches, they find witches. I was on step three of a three step termination process, for being a conservative in public, and on double-secret permanent probation. As far as I knew, no one had ever been placed on permanent probation before.⁹ One mistake and I was fired. That pressure, and a heart attack, forced me into retirement that year. I could say nothing.

Training began with presenters passing out black cords resembling fat shoestrings. For the next quarter or an hour, maybe more, we practiced tying knots so complex they’d have given sailors fits. Fire department codes prohibit classroom doors that open inward eliminating the ability to barricade them against intruders. The solution is tying one end of the plump shoestring into a complex knot and attaching the other end to chairs and desks. The idea is, once the attacker(s) shot the lock off the flimsy door, and yanked it open, the cord would drag school furniture along with it blocking entry. Stop laughing, I’m not making this up. Even if this wasn’t an appallingly stupid idea, I wondered how panic stricken teachers would remember let alone be able to tie complex Gordian knots while Jihadis were banging away at them with AK-47s.

Hands shot up. Teachers wanted to know what they were supposed to do if bad guys defeated the knots. A tall young blonde female to my right raised her hand and suggested a solution. When the bad guy pokes his gun through the open door, grab it by the barrel and pull it out of his hands. I stopped breathing. An involuntary response. Shocking. Breathtaking. Unbelievable. Like when the news reported President Ronald Reagan had been shot. I looked around waiting for someone to explain to her why, besides becoming an instant bullet-bag, this was a terrible idea, beyond stupid. To my utter amazement no one did. Instead teachers agreed heartily it was indeed, a good idea. This from teachers who had never held and even loathed guns. My jaw dropped so far open, I was certain colleagues could hear its horrified tendons distend. My life and the lives of your kids are in the hands of shepherds such as these?

But wait, certainly those in authority, those with a modicum of common sense, would speak out against this absurdly dangerous notion of grabbing the barrel of an AK-47 trying to wrestle it away from the bad guy as it’s fired in your face. Right? Considering teachers are responsible for so many lives, this couldn’t’ be more important. Certainly the proverbial “adults in the room,” were obligated to speak up disabusing colleagues of such reckless notions. I looked at the trainers in the front of the room waiting. Some were cops. Good. They would know what to say. They remained silent. This was probably because they were composing the kindest way to tell the teacher her idea was ill advised…and nuts. Instead, several presenters actually agreed with her. Having worn the blue, I stared at the cops in the front psychically imploring them; please, step in and save us from this train wreck. They said nothing. Principals can also destroy SRO jobs.

A student high on insanity, mayhem, meds, and rage, or Islamic Jihadis fueled by violent berserker blood rage, shoves their gun through the door, or bursts into the room blasting anything that moves and twice if it doesn’t, and you’re going to run over and pull the gun from his hands!? Are you kidding me? Could it get any worse?

Hands went up again. Okay, the bad guys defeat the knots, get the door open, and we’re too far away to grab the barrel. Now what? Trainers instructed teachers to repel the attack by rushing the bad guy, throwing books and staplers to distract him, and then wrestle the gun away. Let me see if I understand this. It’s World War I and the French are huddled in trenches awaiting the German assault. Instead of letting artillery and bullets fly as they cross no-man’s land, the French wait until the Boche are upon them and then bean the Krauts with boiled beef and biscuit cans, wrestle their guns away, and kill them. Or, unarmed, rush German machine gun nests, flinging ration cans as they go, and then take the guns from the Huns. I’d call this moronic but, as the saying goes, it’d be an insult to morons. I prayed retirement came before such a tragedy.

Presenters then revealed if an attack occurred and SWAT nailed the scumbag scrote (my words) and we were no longer in any danger, we’d remain under lockdown. No one would be allowed to leave until authorities had searched and cleared every classroom, office, and nook and cranny, one by one. This would take hours. Several teachers asked what to do if students had to go potty. Presenters said, have them pee in a trash can. What about the girls, another teacher asked. Use T-shirts, sweatshirts, and jackets and hold them up around her, providing a privacy curtain, while she tinkles in the can, came the response.

When did man-hides get turned in for sheep hides? Schools could avail themselves of a voluntary cadre of armed ex-cops and military, and trained citizens. They could open up an irresistible can of whoop-a#% on bad guys taking them out before anyone had to pee in trash cans. I could barely sit still wanting to speak out against this self-inflicted victimhood and cowardice. But, step three of a three step termination process…

Next, in order to be properly trained, completion of role-playing scenarios was required. In addition to the black cords, we were given handfuls of miniature orange whiffle balls. They only had a couple left when they got to me. Teachers were assigned areas in the school where they pretended to be milling about as they would during class passing times. A signal over the PA would announce we were under attack by active “shooter(s)” (sic) and now under lockdown. We were to run to the nearest room, shut and lock the door, employ our newly mastered Houdini-defying knot tying skills, and hide in the dark, maybe peeing on our shoes, until given the all clear.

I wondered, what if the bad guys seized administrators and forced them at gun point to give the all clear? On probation, I said nothing. Once locked in the rooms, police, teacher, and administrator role players, dressed in black including ski-masks, and armed with CO2 paint ball guns, would assault our rooms. If they defeated the knots, they would shoot us. But not to worry, although each gun was loaded with a CO2 canister, there would be no paint ball. We would feel a strong “puff” from the gun. It wouldn’t hurt.

Several young female teachers near me became very emotional, visibly upset. One began to cry in fear. It took presenters several minutes to calm and talk them off the ledge. They were scared. Mortified at being shot by a puff from a paint ball gun? Are you kidding me? This was role playing. Acting. Hadn’t any of them ever played capture the flag, hide and go seek, or at least tag? If they were falling apart over the prospect of being shot by a puff of air from colleague role players, what would they do if confronted by the real deal!

I was assigned to loiter in the lobby of the junior varsity building. It’s an area forming the gaping black mall of the SocialIST Studies Department also known as Mordor. When the alarm blared, everyone stampeded toward my department supervisor’s room. This did not augur well. He called me, and anyone brave or stupid enough to associate with me, the Career Suicide Gang, with me leader for life. He and other teachers warned colleagues, especially rookies, being seen so much as speaking with me was toxic to their careers. I was radioactive and everyone should stay far away from me. This they did. For years. The isolation was so bad, I declared myself a school. I was the principal, teacher, nurse, guidance counselor, custodian, and lunch lady all rolled into one.¹⁰ Back to the story.

Everyone made a mad dash for the room. By the time I got there, last, colleagues were trying to Pontius Pilate me, shutting the door in my face. Forcing my way in, I found most teachers were hiding in the office of this former science room, whose door they had shut and locked. The remainder hid in the classroom as the knot-tiers worked their magic. With no place left to hide, I stood along the wall near the door. Defeating the knots and cords, the black-clad shouting role players burst into the room. One pointed a gun at and shot me. For a brief moment I thought I recognized the maniacal blue eyes behind his goggle lenses. Naw, couldn’t be. Was I bothered? No. Running and locking myself in a classroom isn’t what I would have done in the first place. It’s like chickens, fleeing a butcher, running and locking themselves in their coops or, fleeing a monster, a teen girl runs up to the second floor of a house and hides in a closet or under the bed. Instead, taking as many kids as possible, I’d have run down another hallway toward various doors, or up to the second floor, drop down from a window onto the breezeway, and gone. Terrorists shooting to inflict as much carnage as possible will fire into the center mass of stampeding hysterical people. They might notice a few peeling off but the economy of inflicting mass casualties as quickly as possible dictates letting them go. Hide in a room?

I got into trouble at my police academy in California while practicing nighttime vehicle stops. Coppers, role playing as bad guys, were behind the wheels of the cars trainees pulled over. Each time trainees approached the car, asking for drivers’ license and registration, the bad guys got the drop on and disarmed them. Except for me. I’m no former Force Recon Marine, Navy Seal, or a Billy Bad a*%, but every time they pulled a gun on me, I did the same, shooting back. Role players became exercised over my response. The expectation was, anyone with a gun in their face would surrender theirs and, if shot, be dead. I reacted without thinking, looking to escape and evade, fight if I must. Hey, I lived in Baltimore and Philadelphia. Back to the school active “shooter” (sic) training.

I finally learned the purpose of the miniature orange whiffle balls. They simulated the staplers and books we were to throw at bad guys in order to distract them and take away their guns. Oh brother. We ran the drill two more times and each time colleagues slammed the door in my face as if I was a Jehovah’s Witness. With ceremonial hands washed, I was Pontius Pilated each time, gunned down in the hallway. One lesson became immediately clear beyond the inevitable failure of knotted black cords keeping bad guys out of classrooms. Hysterical code red lockdown stampedes for classrooms meant not everyone would make it. Kids, your kids, would be trampled and or abandoned in halls.

Following these melees of madness, teachers reported back to the Lecture Hall for de-briefing. Presenters said, once we in our classrooms, and the doors shut and locked, under no circumstances were we to open them. Teachers asked, suppose a kid, for whatever reason, was slow to get to a classroom and the door already shut and locked. Can we let them in? No. Don’t open it, came the curt reply. A bad guy could be holding a gun to a kid’s head directing him or her,¹¹ to say the coast was clear. An older teacher, whose daughter was in one of my classes, became upset voicing her opposition to this policy. She was certain her daughter, for physical reasons, wouldn’t make it in time. Trainers wouldn’t budge on this policy. I whispered to her that, no matter what, I’d make sure she was safe.

Instead of orange whiffle balls, staplers, and books, wouldn’t it make more sense to arm the appropriately qualified teachers with Glocks? For the idiots who keep lying claiming school districts want to arm “all” teachers, no one ever suggested that. No one. Suggestions have been made to arm those motivated to go through the extensive training in order to qualify. An “informal” poll suggested, out of 200 teachers, maybe 3 or 4 at my school might be willing. But the point is moot. Tremulous districts that teach the best course of action when faced by a grave threat is to curl up in a ball and hide, aren’t about to allow armed teachers, even if in so doing, lives are saved. Political correctness and the liberal’s masculinity drain will not allow it. No one had the moral courage to call out the district’s plan for the hollow feel good sham that it was.

The post Hide and Cower in Place debriefing filled me with equal measures of chagrin and a sense of doom. Teachers, especially those so fearful of the hide-and-go-see game we played, expressed relief saying they felt much better now that we’d been “trained” to fight back. They no longer needed to fear a terrorist/active “shooter” assault on the school. Armed with magical cords, trained to throw books and staplers at bad guys and grab guns away from them, they felt “empowered” to defeat bad guys. Unarmed. I was sick to my stomach. Isn’t it irresponsible, even negligent, to train people for life and death situations with strategies that will get them killed? Isn’t it equally irresponsible filling their heads with an extremely dangerous false sense of security? People who believe they have the answers, don’t search for more. When did Americans, especially men, genetically wired to protect families and the vulnerable against harm, become such Henny Penny’s? When did the idea of fighting back become a notion impossible to consider?

Within a week of training, an assistant principal sent an email asking teachers to report any unsecured aspect of their classroom so it could be fixed. Teaching in a bunker-like room with no windows, I was also blessed with two doors, one of which did not lock. I promptly reported this. Several weeks passed in which I received no response to my email nor was the door fixed. Students aware of the unsecured door became upset so I sent a second email in November, 2015. It still had not been fixed when I walked out the door for the last time in May, 2016. Stay tuned. More tales from the files of the CSG to come.

CSG

Career Suicide Gang¹²