I'm over this year's weather...

Thursday was scary.

It wasn't a drill. It wasn't far away.

It was real. It was here.

As I look around my neighborhood now, I know how lucky I am. Not a single object out of place, every lightweight kids' toy still sits upright in my yard, but one hundred seventy-six yards away from my front door, there's devastation.

The tornado cut a path through the neighborhood, leaving shattered glass and splintered wood in its wake.

But it didn't leave broken spirits. I saw people in the streets. People talking. People helping. People leaning on each other for support. It's times like these that bring people together.

Though it's unfortunate, happiness doesn't bind people...tragedy does...vulnerability does. Those emotions solidify humanity. Those moments create relationships and showcase the human spirit. In tragedy, humanity shines.

I could go on here, but I won't...at least not about that, not now. Something else weighs on my heart as I write this. My children.

My house may only be one hundred seventy-six yards away from the path of the tornado, but it was empty and is just an object. My child was about 700 yards away...less than a 1/2 a mile. She was under a table, sheltering in place with a couple of hundred other elementary school kids.

She was crying. She was afraid. I wasn't there.

I desperately wanted to go to her, but I knew better. I knew she was in the safest possible place. And besides that, I had a job to do.

I teach, and as a teacher, my job is to protect my kids at school. I love teaching. It is my passion. It is the path God always intended me to follow. But in moments like Thursday's, my job isn't about being an educator, it's about being a protector. I am charged with watching over every single child in my care, even as I worry about my own two, who are even closer to the storm.
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It all started when the announcement to shelter in place came over the loudspeaker. From the emotional tone of the announcement, we knew it wasn't a tornado warning for something 30 miles down the road...this was something close.

My students and I sat in an internal room watching the live stream on KBTX. And yes, many were scared and worried, but they were able to process what was going on. They had phones to call and text their parents. They could access social media to stay up to date on the latest developments, so there was never an emotional breakdown for the class as a whole.

Things seemed to be calming down as the meteorologist let everyone know that the tornado warning for Bryan-College Station had lifted...but then...in almost the same breath...he said that funnel clouds were forming over Austin's Colony.

My heart dropped.

The lights were off in my room because everyone was working on laptops and preferred it that way after we lost electricity earlier. I was thankful for the darkness, for silent tears were running down my face.

My son was in daycare in Austin's Colony.

Everything in me wanted to jump up and go, but that would've been both unsafe and irresponsible, as the children surrounding me were my current responsibility.

Then they started talking about the tornado's path. It had moved through Wheeler Ridge.

My neighborhood.

My daughter's school.

Finally, things might be over, and we emerged from the first shelter-in-place, and new students filtered into my room with the period change. We continued to watch the live stream as more details poured in.

Water was rising. The weather was deteriorating again.

A second shelter-in-place was issued, and we returned to the interior room. This time didn't seem as scary as the first, less of an immediate threat, but my nerves were already shot. 

This time, we were released from the shelter-in-place around 3:20...a good 40 minutes after elementary schools typically release...which meant buses would be late since they run dual routes.

The school day ended, and most faculty moved to the bus area to assist with the masses. I wanted to run to my car, but I waited a little longer to make sure everything was okay.

All reports indicated that it might be difficult to gain entry to Austin's Colony and Wheeler Ridge, so I headed to get Mason first.

As I turned onto the road his daycare is on, I immediately noticed the flooding. I parked two houses away and stepped into ankle-deep water as I walked toward the house Mason was in. In the few minutes I talked with the lady who keeps him, I could tell she'd had a long, stressful day. I understood. She will forever have my gratitude for keeping my baby safe.

Other than the flooding on her street, getting my son was relatively easy. Getting to his sister proved a different story. Reports indicated that Briarcrest and 30 were closed, so I headed for Wildflower to cut through back over to Highway 6. Cars were backed up for a few miles, but I was able to turn off. Reports also indicated that the Copperfield entrance off University was closed due to flooding, so the only way in was down University to 30, then Copperfield from the other direction.

By this time, my husband was ahead of me, and I told him if he could get to Reily first, do it. Traffic on University came all the way out to 6.

As I crossed the bridge over the usually trickling creek, I was in awe of the massive torrent of water sweeping just feet below the bridge. While inching along University, my husband called, frustrated because the police turned him around at 30 because of flooding.

At this point, I experienced a moment of panic...the three access points to my neighborhood seemed to be inaccessible.

I met him in the parking lot of the Physicians Center on University because we wondered if I could walk through the water that was across Copperfield to get to Bowen. If it was just high and not rushing, that seemed like an option, but thankfully, it didn't come to that. We were able to take a cut through the road over to 30 and come in the back way. It took about an hour and a half after picking up my son to get my daughter, but we made it.

All the weight I had been carrying around immediately slipped away when I saw her. She was okay. She was safe. She was with me. She was even in a pretty good humor, all things considered, and didn't seem worried about me picking her up late, which I credit to the teachers.

Almost all of the teachers were still there, and I will be forever grateful to them for the job they did on Thursday. Though my 2-year-old doesn't know what a tornado is and that it is a truly terrifying force, my 9-year-old does. On top of that, she's a worrier. And those teachers had a building full of little worriers on Thursday.

The elementary school teachers were charged with protecting my child while I protected someone else's, and they did. And though my daughter cried for the entire first lockdown, I know that the teachers did their best to comfort the kids and let them know that they were safe. I know they probably struggled to outwardly display emotions that their minds were rejecting, but they did a great job in a crisis.

My family made it home safely Thursday evening, and though there was no electricity, we were together...and that's all I needed.
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Though I wrote this because it helps me process and digitally vomit my thoughts, I also wrote it to add an aside...I want parents to know that teachers understand...most of us are parents, too.
These situations are high stress for everyone involved. School personnel understand that parents want to protect their kids...we want to protect their kids too.

Administrators, teachers, custodians, secretaries, and all the other people on campus have loved ones they are concerned about...houses that are damaged...issues they are dealing with, but we also have a job to do...keeping every student safe.

Parents, please know that administrators and teachers make decisions to keep kids safe, not to make things more difficult. Student safety is the number one priority.

Hopefully, there won't be a next time, but if there is...know every adult in your child's building will put your child's safety first. After all, we love them like they are our own.