In The Event of an Emergency

Back in September a directive came home from J's school:

"Please pack a gallon Zip-Lok bag with a couple of juice boxes, a couple of non-perishable snacks, and anything that might help your child to feel calmer in the event of a disaster or emergency.  Please label the bag with your child's name, teacher, and room number, and turn it in to the school office."

I remember it like it was yesterday.  And I remember the flood of thoughts in my head:

I was NEVER asked to do ANYTHING like this in Kansas!  What kind of place IS this?

My kid won't even leave the house if there are clouds in the sky.  What on earth do you people possibly think I could put in this bag that might even remotely help her to feel calmer?

And this one.  The big one.

There could be a disaster at my daughter's school and she would be in the hands of total and complete strangers.  People I don't know--who don't know me and who don't know her.  People for whom she's just another one of the 500+ kids that the State of California requires this place to educate and protect in the event of an emergency.

See, here at this school, her principal isn't the wife of her T-Ball coach from kindergarten.  Her best friend's mom isn't the Early Childhood teacher just a wing away.  Her former teachers aren't here.  Neither is my friend from college, or the mother of one of the girls from our dance studio, or my friend whose son also plays baseball with my boys, or our wonderful friend from church who has known my kids since they were in diapers.

Those people care about my daughter.  I know with every fiber of my being that they would put the safety and security of my daughter on the same level of priority as that of their own children.

So with a horrible, awful, pit in my stomach, I packed the bag and dropped it off at school.

Today, when I was straightening up the kitchen, my eyes fell on this:

The school had sent home the bag, with all of the contents still inside (minus a juice box, which I strongly suspect was part of yesterday's after-school snack).

And I thought back to September and what I didn't know back then:

That even though J's principal wasn't the wife of her T-ball coach from kindergarten, she would take time out of her busy day  multiple times to visit with my daughter about her concerns and get to know us personally.

That the office staff would graciously allow me to sit for an entire morning in their small space so that I could be "on the premises" on a day that my daughter was particularly nervous.  And that these two ladies had the perfect mix of empathy and "You'll be fine. Go back to class."  that my daughter needed to overcome that nervousness.

That Thursdays would become my daughter's favorite days of the week because of 'Miss Michelle.'

That there's a second-grade teacher at this school who is so amazingly wonderful, I almost wish I could have another child, just so he or she could be in her class.  Almost.

That all three sixth-grade teachers would, in just a short year's time, get to know my girl as an individual.  They would provide her with opportunities to use her gifts and abilities, encourage her to stretch and grow, and improve her areas of weakness.  They would also provide classroom environments where she could easily and safely make friends.

That these friends would welcome us into things like their mother-daughter book club.

That Robert, the crossing guard, grew up in Manhattan, Kansas.  And nearly every day we'd talk about K-State, the Chiefs, or the Royals.

That all of these people would make my daughter's safety and security their top priority.  Not just because she was another one of 500.  But because she matters to each of them.

That my daughter has girlfriends with mothers who, if they got there before I could, would step right in and take care of mine like she was their own.

That I would hug every one of these people today with grateful tears in my eyes as I said goodbye and told them thanks for all they've done.  

And that even though I can see why it's nice to have families put together "disaster" bags for their kids, it isn't really necessary.

 Although I am so thankful that we never. ever.  had to test it, I am certain that what my child was going to truly need to make her--and me--feel more comfortable in the event of an emergency was the support of these amazing people. And that system was already in place.