Want to get the undivided attention of both the principal and assistant principal of an elementary school? I know just the way to do it. Before the school day starts, walk into their office and announce, “Just to give y’all a heads up. My next column for the newspaper is gonna be all about this school’s response to the tornado last week – from my point of view, of course.” 

I did this recently, and the assistant principal immediately stopped typing on her computer and gave me an inquisitive look. The principal suddenly stopped mid-text, looked up from his cell phone, and with raised eyebrows said, “Well, okay.” 

As a columnist for this paper, my stories are usually humorous, nonfictional, and mostly about growing up on that old familiar street not so far away called Flamingo. Some are about everyday things that happen to everybody, and from time to time, there’s a little fiction sprinkled in just to be humorous. But this story is far from my usual. And nothing about it is humorous. This story is about what parents need to know when they drop their kids off at school.

7:05 am.

I paused for a moment to give a morning greeting at the open office door. The principal and assistant principal were already discussing the impending storm, checking the radar and the logistics of bus routes, and considering the possibility for a late release in the afternoon. After a quick hello, I went to my room to get ready for a busy day. Just how busy it would be, I had no idea.

The morning progressed as normal except as we passed every window, I kept a watchful eye on the ever-darkening sky and the radar on my cell phone. Being born and living in the south all my life, I’d witnessed this scene play out too many times. This was gonna be a really bad storm, and I just hoped it would hold off long enough so we could get the kids home before it hit.

12:05 pm.  

The e-mail came roundabout noon. All outdoor recess was cancelled for the rest of the day. With this cancellation, it was plain to me that the storm was going to hit sooner than later. I passed my concerns onto the teacher that I’m paired with. She agreed and began to make additional preparations for the impending weather event.

12:21 pm.

Our classroom arrived at the lunchroom, working our way through the line and eventually sitting down at our assigned tables. There were three other kindergarten classes in the lunchroom, and we were soon joined by the fifth. Our lunchroom is of typical construction with one entire wall being fixed glass windows. Glass windows are the last thing you want to be next to when a storm hits.

12:31 pm.

A sudden stillness of darkness descended outside. I’d seen that darkness before and knew what was about to happen. Then it did. The tornado warning was issued, and alert tones sounded on cell phones and watches throughout the school. Outside, early warning sirens went off in the distance. All teachers took a momentary pause to look down at their phones before immediately going into action. A well-rehearsed evacuation of the ten tables of kindergarteners from the lunchroom started in unison. Confused Little Ones were reassured but urged to move quickly to our safe place, the interior hallway adjacent to the lunchroom.

12:32 pm.

Children from the lunchroom and art room lined the hallway and a quick count was made. All students were accounted for and were now sitting down with heads bowed and covered with their arms. They were familiar with this drill. We’d practiced it many times already throughout the school year. At the end of the hallway, about 100 feet away from us, small windows showed the gravity of the situation we found ourselves in. Outside the window, the once light of day had been replaced by a charcoal darkness, and the rain being driven sideways by the winds made jagged tracks on the glass. This wasn’t a drill.

The lights flickered.

As the wind howled and the lights continued to flicker, some of the Littles started to cry. Teachers and paraprofessionals sat down to give solace and ease their fears as the administrators walked down the hallway swiftly and with a purpose. They had students, teachers, and the school to protect.

A sense of calm flowed from them both as they passed, wrapping the students in a warm blanket of assurance. The administrators’ only pause on their mission of checking every hallway was to comfort a crying student and reassure them they were indeed safe and everything would be okay. Their confidence came from decades of experience in the school system.

The assistant principal, recently named principal of her own elementary school, would soon be bringing her knowledge, leadership and compassionate personality there this very fall. She was always ready for any challenge that came her way…even a tornado. The parents, faculty and students will be lucky to have her. She is beloved by all and will be sorely missed.

The calm demeanor, witty personality, and kindness of our new principal is well known throughout our school. It serves him well, especially during dire times. As the lights continued to flicker in our hallway and the unrelenting winds pounded the school, I remembered this wasn’t his first tornado. Prior to being named our principal, he was the athletic director for Newnan High School, and he had been first on the scene after a tornado had touched down and demolished that entire school.   

The danger is real.

I recognize the massive responsibility they carried with them as they turned the corner and disappeared down the 2^ndand 3^rd grade hallways. I too carried the same responsibility every day I went to work. Before becoming a kindergarten paraprofessional, I answered another calling – that of fire fighter. I drove the fire truck for twenty-eight years to and from emergency scenes, in all types of weather, and yes, even during a tornado. While doing so, I held the lives of the other firefighters aboard the apparatus in my hands. The weight of that task and accompanying stress was ever present every time the tones dropped for another emergency call.

1:05 pm.

With the passage of the storm, we received the “all clear,” and kindergarteners started to file back into the lunchroom. After finishing their meal, the kindergarteners made their way back to their classes to complete the school day and talk about what happened.

Later that day, under cloudy skies with the little hope of blue shining through, we completed a normal school dismissal. On the way back inside, I passed the coach and asked him if he had kids in the gym when the storm hit.

“Yes, I did. When the alert came over the phone, I immediately moved the students into the main building and the 4^thgrade hallway. The gym has no interior walls. They wouldn’t have been safe out there.” Coach should know where the safest places are; he helped open the school over 23 years ago. 

On my way back to collect things from my classroom, I paused in the doorway of the one pre-school room and asked the teacher how littlest of the Littles did during the storm. She answered, “They were fine. We went out to the hallway. They sat down and covered their heads as normal. They thought it was just another drill…a lot longer, but just a drill. They did great.”

This old, retired firefighter breathed a huge sigh of relief as I climbed into my car to go home that day. What might have happened didn’t because of the preparations, continual rehearsals, and swift action by all the staff to keep students safe and out of harm’s way. 

The next morning, the school counselor sent out an e-mail to all staff to forward to families for tips on how to support their children after such a scary storm event. 

We found out later that on that Monday, March 31^st, an EF0 tornado touched down at 12:32 pm a few miles from our school and stayed on the ground until 12:39 pm. Winds peaked at over 90 mph downing trees and damaging property for five miles.

The coordinated efforts by our staff to protect our students was truly an amazing thing to experience that day, and I’m proud to be a part of the team at Willis Road Elementary.

And that’s what parents need to know.