Time Out

By TAD BARTIMUS

There's all kinds of hammering and sawing coming from the garage, dust billowing out of windows, things crashing to the floor. The infernal racket is music to my ears; it means my husband is in his workshop and home for the summer.

Ever since the mass murder at Columbine High School, I have stood in the driveway waving a cheerful goodbye every morning to my teacher husband while stifling the urge to yell "COME BACK!"

The school shootings in Littleton, Colo., and before that in Fayetteville, Tenn.; Jonesboro, Ark.; Springfield, Ore.; Edinboro, Pa.; West Paducah, Ky.; Pearl, Miss.; Bethel, Alaska, and, subsequently, Conyers, Ga. -- made us sad and reflective. We dreaded turning on the TV and radio at breakfast, worried we'd be forced to grapple with yet another rampage in another institution of learning. Now, at last, the country is in a long "time out."

Summer recess gives parents and children time to get reacquainted. Teachers and administrators can decompress, measures to increase campus safety can be implemented before the school bell rings again, everybody can cool off and calm down. But the shootings have permanently altered school life in America. This summer, many teachers will use their break to re-evaluate their commitment to a profession that is supposed to inspire the best in them but increasingly is leaving them angry, frustrated, disillusioned and now, fearful.

As much as I admire what business teacher and girls' basketball and softball coach Dave Sanders did to protect innocent students at Columbine before he died of his gunshot wounds, I do not want my husband to be a dead hero. I have said this to him; in response, there is silence. I know my former Marine. He will do what he has to do on behalf of the children in his charge. But why are we even being forced to grapple with this? My husband is not a fireman or a policeman. Yet every day this spring, I have wondered is he all right?

There is no quick fix to our national dilemma. This summer break won't bring miracles to put a stop to the Columbines and the Conyers. I wonder: how many veteran teachers will say "ENOUGH!" and move onto another profession? How many bright, eager young college graduates will actually heed President Clinton's call to "touch the future" by joining the ranks?

More importantly, why should they? It is a low-paying job that promises burgeoning class sizes, more and more unmotivated students, deteriorating facilities, relentless budget cutbacks and eroding respect from the community. It takes a lot of dedication, courage and spirit to stay on that path, let alone to start down it.

Teachers with great educations but modest bank accounts must now look at a 13-year-old and wonder: is he merely acting out an adolescent crisis or is he figuring out how to kill me? Should I discipline that high school junior for swearing and smoking or just back away because she might come to class tomorrow with a loaded revolver? What do I do about the disturbed special education student my administrators keep ignoring because they're afraid of a lawsuit; do I just put up with his violent outbursts and hope the kids who want to learn will be able to get it anyway?

Make no mistake -- the child who was just a pain in the neck before the school shootings will now be carefully watched as a potential threat. The rebellious, unruly child with home problems will not be given that extra chance if he or she threatens the teacher. Parents are increasingly going to be called at work and told, "come and get him, he's suspended."

Teachers should not be expected to be policemen, social workers, surrogate parents and psychiatrists, but they are. Their job is hard enough: get and hold the attention of children, teach them new skills and information, inspire and motivate them to move forward as productive, enthusiastic and creative good citizens. They should not also have to become human shields standing between killer and victim.

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