The Big One

[reposted from Sept 27, 2007]

Are we ready for the Big One?

Sacred Heart Schools, Atherton launched its first all-school evacuation in living memory on Tuesday. In a festive spirit, more than one-thousand children and adults gathered under a clear blue late-September sky to demonstrate their readiness to face whatever life throws at them.

Emergency response director Sandy Dubinsky praised the community’s walk to the football field as “a remarkable job.” What impressed me was the diversity of responses to simulated catastrophe:When the long-anticipated fire alarm went off, Senior Seena Amid-Houzor leaped to his feet and hurried to pack his bag. Seena ignored his teacher’s instructions to leave the bag until classmate Maria Gibbs counseled him, “It’s not worth dying for.”

In the crowded hallway, students, confused by the closing of the fire doors, walked away from the exits until English teacher James Hughes, with bold strides and arms akimbo, guided them safely out of the building. Once out in the warm morning air, students regained their sense of normalcy and talked quietly about their lives.

Nora: “Do we have espacio next?”
Madelyn: “You mean we’re going to miss espacio?”
Nora: “ I hope so.”

The Dean of Students set up a portable amplifier. “I appreciate your cooperation. Please move to the football field.”

Drama teacher John Loschman, with his fine sense of the choreography of events, said, “They’re supposed to go to the field two ways. He didn’t say that. I read my instructions.”

Students did as they were told, but none was able to simulate the seriousness that one imagines will accompany a real emergency.For some, the practice lacked verisimilitude:
“How many times in your life will your school burn down?”
“No, dude. It’s about hostages. I’d just get the hell out.”
“That is different thing.”

Others were still focused on smaller, more immediate traumas:
“I wanted to kill Whitlow during that test. He kept sniffling, and he wouldn’t get a tissue.”

At the field, a group of senior boys circled around a pair of MacBook Pros to listen to music and snap pictures of themselves in their digital PhotoBooth.
“We should start a mass printing to all the printers on campus!”
“How sick would that be?”

One boy dispensed test-taking advice: “A short answer is supposed to be three sentences, tops.”

Many talked merely for the pleasure of hearing their own voices:
"Who was I talking about when I compared him to Java the Hut?"
"How good of an idea is a spider army?"
"Are those pants linen? That is legit!"
"Are you writing poetry about what you see?"
"Up yours, man. We're listening to Halo 3!"

The Dean of Faculty discovered astroturf: “Oh, my god! It’s fake grass.”

At the other end of the field, I picked out my fourth-grade daughter sitting happily with her classmates. I wanted to run to her and say hello. In a real emergency I would have.

When the faculty and staff were dismissed, history teacher Stuart Morris staggered to his feet in a daze. “Oh, man. That was a head-rush.”

Strolling back to the buildings, two teachers chatted about education and class warfare. The drill took less time than expected, and everyone was grateful for the long break—a real espacio in the day. When the class bell rang an hour later, poor Seena had still not returned for his book-bag.