It's not that those other shootings weren't horrific. They were.
It's not that those other shootings didn't affect me. They did.
It's not that those other shootings didn't leave families in mourning. They did.
But this was a school shooting.
And I am a teacher.
Those were MY kids.
That was MY classroom.
It doesn't matter that I teach high school kids and the victims were babies.
THEY WERE STILL MY KIDS.
And I'm not sure that anyone who is not a teacher understands the depth of feelings in a teacher's heart tonight.
We have lock-down drills in my high school. Practice for something I hope I never have to face.
Cell phones off.
In a corner.
"What happens if we are in the bathroom?"
"What if I'm in the hall?"
"What if I'm in the computer lab?"
"What if I get here after you shut the door? Will you let me in?"
I watched those teachers leading their kids out of the building. Thinking of what was going through their head. And I know what it was. And it wasn't about themselves.