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August 1. I never believed the NRA cared about kids. But I’m big enough to admit that they and their leader, Wayne LaPierre, not only care, but have the solution to end school shootings. My earlier position on banning assault rifles and tightening gun control was—frankly—naive. Let’s face it, our schools are soft targets. Anyone who thinks that gun control can stop a whack job from going on an AR-15 rampage has chugged too much liberal Kool-Aid. The only way to protect our students is to harden our schools. The best way to do this is to arm teachers.
August 8. Principal King asked for those with gun experience to volunteer. There are four of us: Coach Marsh, who has three army tours in Iraq under his belt; Mr. Frank, an avid deer hunter; Miss Hamshire, who shoots AR-15s with her fiance; and me, who won the Boy Scout marksmanship merit badge. (Each of us gets a $5,000 stipend, but that is irrelevant. My credit card debt is totally manageable.)
August 18. In practice, Mr. Frank couldn’t hit the target. Our trainer, Special Agent Achebe, said, “Lemme see those Coke bottles.” He put on Mr. Frank’s glasses, and now Mr. Frank is out. I hit all ten targets! It only took thirty shots, which was an improvement from last week’s forty.
September 6. The school year has commenced, and I’ve got a gun locked in a case and bullets secured in a lock box. The case is locked with a key, but the bullet box has a combination lock. Who can remember? Mine is 27, 21, 4. I stuck a Post-It on the edge of my computer monitor.
September 11. Coach Marsh is out. He went slightly PTSD when he overheard Yasmin Abid’s parents speaking Arabic. Then at Friday’s football game, Miss Hamshire didn’t put her hand over her heart during the national anthem, so now I’m the only Good Teacher with a Gun. It’s an awesome responsibility.
September 15. Only twenty-two shots to hit ten targets. Special Agent Achebe said, “If you were playing baseball, you’d be an all-star!”
September 21. The most amazing thing. Alex Gomez is always screwing around, making English 9 impossible to teach. Today he interrupted me while I taught semicolons. I stopped the lesson, walked to the gun case, and dangled the key, my eyes riveted on Alex. The kid went ramrod straight—not a peep for the rest of class. If every teacher had a gun, we wouldn’t worry about classroom management! Being a Good Teacher with a Gun rocks!
September 22. Principal King told me to keep keys in my pocket. The guy has no sense of humor. Did he think I was going to shoot Alex? I’d only wing him. Joke! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Rush Limbaugh is right: Gun control people have zero sense of humor.
September 30. First live shooter drill. Not my fault I couldn’t get the bullet box open; the Post-It was gone. I told Achebe, “Don’t yell. It’s the combination. I’m an English teacher, not a mathematician.”
October 8. What if twenty terrorists attack the school? The only way a Good Teacher with an AR-15 can protect his students is with a bumpstock. Good thing they’re still easy to get.
November 17. Today’s drill went better, except it’s hard running with an AR-15. I kind of tripped. I went flying, the gun went flying, and the box of bullets scattered. It was kind of funny, but when you think about it, not so much.
December 12. Seventeen shots to hit ten targets! I’m practically Chris Kyle.
January 20. “I didn’t have a choice,” I protested to Principal King. “How would you get Alex Gomez to shut up? Everyone knows the gun’s unloaded.” I have to take a conflict management seminar all weekend. I’ve half-a-mind to pay a Friday night visit to King’s house.
March 15, 2:15 PM. It was a regular day. The students were reading, and I was grading when over the intercom, Principal King announced, “Active shooter on campus!” I opened the gun cabinet and removed the gun. I was sure I stuck the Post-It in my wallet. I searched behind my Visa, Starbucks, and MoviePass cards. “Where the hell is the combination?” I yelled. Cyndy de Leon said, “You put it in your desk drawer, but we all know it. And then as a chorus, the class recited, “27, 21, 4!” “Thanks!” I yelled and then, “Lock the Door!” And I was out.
The hall was empty and silent. You’d think there’d be shots or something. But there he was at the door of Room B-222 with his gun out. He had a half-dozen student hostages. His back was to me, and all my training kicked in. It was like everything went into slow motion. I calmly raised the AR-15, shot a seventeen-round bumpstock burst, and he crumbled to the ground. I couldn’t 100 percent celebrate because, unfortunately, I accidently hit two students, Alex Gomez and LaToya Washington. I feel terrible about LaToya and pretty bad about Alex, but I told myself to focus on all the lives I saved.
March 15, 2:25 PM.
My bad. It was a drill. Apparently, it had been announced at the staff meeting. It is possible I was on chess.com and missed it. Apparently, it was in the morning bulletin as well, but who reads them? Seems like Special Agent Achebe was putting kids he found in the hallway into the nearest classroom. I feel lousy.
March 15, 8:38 PM.
They set bail at $1,000,000. I used my one call to phone Wayne LaPierre. When I told him who I was, I heard an expletive and the line went dead.
Matt Biers-Ariel teaches high school English in Winters, California; his essays and satire can be found at light-the-fire.blog.