It was in the 9:30 a.m. morning meeting that we first
talked about it. The first reports were a disgruntled parent who shot at the
principal. Forty-five minutes later the world crashed in. It was at an
elementary school.. kids shot.. principle dead.. teachers dead.. at least six
kids. By 10:30 a.m. the wires were reporting 18 kids were dead. With each wave
of news I paused for a few seconds, processed the information, then reshaped it
into what went into the news. It’s my job. I do it well. I didn’t cry. Then,
just like Cinderella at the ball, the clock tolled straight up and the first
report came in.. an entire kindergarten class—shot dead—their teacher shot dead—the
world stopped. (We later learned it was a
first grade class).
My mind spun in a million directions and I saw Anja
sitting in “learning position” watching a gunman walk in. My five year old—not
a care in the world—not understanding the fight or flight impulse—a sitting
duck. The three other producers seemed to be thinking the same thing. We
stopped typing. We stopped working. We just stopped. I finally cried. One
producer picked up his phone and texted his son’s teacher asking her to hug his
boy for him. Another one called her mom. Then the unthinkable happened. All
four producers stood up and walked out. It wasn’t a show of power—but of
humanity. We walked to the Coke machine—we all grabbed a drink, a tissue and a
hug. Then, we went back to work.
The next two days blended together. But it wasn’t all bad
news. After one of the most emotional stories I’ve ever seen hit the air—a viewer
called on Saturday morning—volunteering to provide a plane to transport the
family, friends and the little body of Emilie Parker—back to Utah—for free. There
was the story about the friends who found a way to help us all feel useful as
we mourned and the bank account Utahan’s crashed because too many of us at once
wanted to help. Finally, the person who organized the letter writing campaign—we
wrote our letters today. All these things helped ease my grief.
But the story that made me cry and helped me heal all at
once was the eyewitness account from a first grade boy whose teacher battled the
gunman as he walked into her classroom. Miss V. was shot multiple times in front
of her students, while they all ran out.. saving all their lives. The little
boy keeps asking if she’s okay. He knows she is hurt but keeps saying, “she’ll
be okay.” This was Miss. V’s first year teaching. Anja has a teacher like this.
Miss. M is amazing. She loves my daughter like I love her. It wasn’t hard
sending Anja to school today because I knew Miss. M would keep her safe. She
always does.
So, yes, I have hugged my kids tighter this weekend than
usual. I have cried more than I ever have as a producer. And I am emotionally drained.
But I am blessed. And I still love my job because in the coming days, I will
get to meet the people who are turning this tragedy into acts of love and
kindness.
