Truth Thursday
Last Friday morning, at approximately 7:30 am, I drove my
youngest son to school. On the way, he told me about his role as a School Ambassador, and how, the day before, a new kid from Cameroon arrived at school,
knowing very little English. He was put in my son’s charge, and is to shadow my son's in his classes for a few days. My son is to show him the ropes and hopefully acclimate him just a little as he makes his way, probably feeling quite
frightened, in a new school and a new country.
By the end of the first day, my son had already introduced
the new boy to another boy he knew in school from Cameroon, who had entered my son’s 5th grade class
mid-last year. I was so
proud of him to think of making this introduction, and the empathy that created
the impulse to do so.
On Friday morning at approximately 9:00 am, Adam Lanza
stormed his way into Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, and, after having already killed his mother at home,
mowed down 20 kindergarteners and several teachers, including the principal and
the school psychologist, before killing himself.
This is the exact opposite of empathy. It was a psychotic,
horrific act, one that has destroyed not only the lives of those who were
killed, but with reverberations throughout their families and community. The
impulses that must have been at work in the killer’s brain are frightening to contemplate.
I didn’t know where to begin to write about this story, only
that I had to write about it. There are so many aspects of it to parse:
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The parents. When you become a parent, you
realize that your heart is tottering dangerously on your sleeve, and will never
again be tucked neatly away in your chest. No parent can imagine getting the
phone call that the Newtown parents received on Friday. Every parent thinks
about what he or she might do in the same situation, but for many of us, even
the neural pathways leading to a coherent thought about it are blocked. Losing
a child is the most painful thing one can experience, bar none. Regardless of
the passing of time and hopefully their ability to resume living, the lives of
these parents will be forever scarred.
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The children who lived. I read that the police officers
who escorted the surviving children out of the school told them to hold hands
with a partner and avert their eyes. I’m not sure that simply by not looking
would they find themselves in less of a stressful and sad place, but I
appreciate that the adults in charge realized that the less of the carnage the
children saw of their classmates, the better. At least that was one tiny thing
they could be spared.
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The children who died. Adorable, innocent, five
and six year olds. Enough said.