Wednesday, October 02, 2013

Gangland

Over the intercom,  our principal started to speak. The heat was too oppressive, crayons were melting at some schools, and our district was letting kids from our school go at 11:30. The kids let out a celebratory cheer (as did the teachers). It was Friday, and we were all a bit exhausted.

The kids, some meandering, some exuberant, left the building, and then we got an announcement-- we were to all meet briefly. With a raised eyebrow, my science partner and I ambled down the foyer to join the circle of teachers, administrators and support staff. The air was tense, voices a buzz.

While it was true that the heat was overwhelming (I had been spraying my kids in the face with a water bottle for weeks), the temperature was a cover story. The truth? The school was worried about a bloodbath.

The weekend previous, there was a party. Mostly Bloods, a few Crips. Rumbling started, some harsh words said, and a young, teenage kid, shot and killed. Fallen from his bicycle into the street. Bled to death.

His funeral was that Friday, and his gang wanted revenge. The rival high school, where many of the opposite gang members went to school, lit up Facebook with threats, timelines, locations.

Our mission? Getting all of the kids home and out of the way, so none would be tempted to be part of the potential brutality that was scheduled around the time of our school's normal release.

As I left the school, one of my favorites stopped me. "Go home, Miss," she said. "And don't come back to this neighborhood tonight. If you live close, stay inside. It isn't safe here right now."

Shaking and pale, she continued. "All of this is stupid. When will it end? They kill us, we kill them, it goes over and over, revenge and more revenge until all of my male relatives are dead. Until everyone's dead. It's not worth it."

I gave her a hug, gave her my cell phone number. I went home, I checked the news, and I hoped that all of my kids would be safe.

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