by Donna Swagerty Shreve
The year was 1988 and I left the confines of the classroom to go in and out of other teachers’ classrooms to demonstrate and teach them better math techniques. My exhausting job had many perks and one of the main ones meant no recess duty. I was pulling my three-decker cart between classrooms during a recess break. The huge expanse of playground seemed extra crowded this day and I was feeling grateful I was not on duty. I noticed two teachers who were on duty. They were oblivious to the numerous fourth through sixth graders and were chatting with each other. I was making slow progress across the uneven asphalt with my cart that was piled high full of various bins full of hands-on materials I used in the classrooms with the students. I was pulling this heavy cart with a hand made hook that looked like a long handle used to turn a sprinkler on and off. Instead of a u shape on the end, this devise had a hook. This allowed me lift up my cart over thresholds coming in and out of classrooms. I was in and out of seven classrooms at this school on this day and I was known by many of the students.
On this particular day I was taking in all of the chaos and again feeling grateful for my new job. Suddenly three students came running towards me screaming, “She has a knife and she is trying to kill Bobby!” I had six years of life guarding experience and this was not my first save. I grabbed my quickest tool that I had, the four-foot hook, and I sprinted to where a crowd of students had gathered in a half circle to watch the show. I couldn’t help but notice on my run over, that the two other teachers, were still deep in conversation and oblivious to poor Bobby’s peril.
As I approached 11-year-old Maria with the weapon, I demanded that she drop her 12 inch butcher knife. I raised my hook when she refused and whacked her on her wrist. Bobby was wearing a big blue puffy jacket and the jacket had already been slashed. Bobby was now directly behind his crazy hook waving protector. Maria is now screaming at me that I cannot touch her. I explained that when she has a knife in her hand all of the rules change.
As I whacked her again hard on her wrist, I was aware there was a chance I could break her wrist. Maybe Maria had the same thought because after the second hit she dropped her weapon. I put the hook in front of me in a position parallel to the ground. I moved cautiously toward her and picked up the knife at her feet. After retrieving her weapon, I suggested she start heading for the office. I then followed her and I noticed there was now quite a crowd of on-lookers who included those two teachers who did nothing more than join the audience at the main event. As we got closer to the office, which seemed to be on the opposite side of the 12 acre campus, I saw the out of breath principal running toward us. Maybe one of those teachers sent a messenger to fetch him.
The police had been called and I needed to write up my report. The knife had been placed on the bed of the copy machine next to a 12 inch ruler. A secretary handed me a red pen and I wrote my account on the back of the picture of the weapon in large bright red cursive writing. The report I wrote seemed to be screaming. I realized my emotions had finally kicked in after holding them in while I dealt with the playground crisis It turns out the 6th grader Maria had only been at Park Lane School one week. She was now living with her aunt as her mother had lost control of her. Maria was going after 6thgrader Bobby because Bobby’s cousin was in a rival gang to Maria’s older brother. Fortunately Bobby was not cut even though his puffy jacket had been slashed. It had been way too close to disaster.
My job that year was to teach teachers. Hopefully that day on the playground I did just that.
Swagerty-Aldrich Family Web Site 