Parent Orientation

A poem from the week of August 25

August 26, 2024 6:14 p.m.

Parent Orientation

I am sitting in my son’s tiny 
chair in his first grade classroom 
while his teacher introduces herself 
tells us she grew up in this school
at the end of the hour she pulls 
up a slide with the words

hold in place

secure campus

lockdown

a dad wants to see 
what lockdown means
I do not want to see
but I am stuck in my son’s tiny 
chair as she calmly 
walks through the room
closes the blinds
locks the doors 
shuts off the lights
moves a table
moves a bookshelf 
to make a barrier 
between them 
and the wild animal 
on the other side

this is where we hide

this is when her voice cracks

I want to get up and slam 
my hands on my son’s tiny 
desk and rage against 
the terrible irony of having 
to use a shelf full of books
to protect kids from bullets
instead I stand up from my son’s tiny
chair and smile at her while I hand 
over the paper that tells her 
his favorite color is blue
his favorite food is spaghetti