Should We Arm School Custodians?
A story from early in my first year of teaching, in the 1970s:
A few minutes before the end of last hour, a 7th grader asked if he could use the bathroom. I already knew enough about this kid to know he would leave and not return--so I told him that he could wait, and use the restroom on his way to the bus. After the bell rang, as I was tidying up the room, I noticed an odor reminiscent of the Greyhound station men's room wafting out of the second practice cubicle.
Next to the boy's instrument case was his trumpet mute, filled with urine; there were traces of liquid on the walls. I called the custodian to help with cleanup. Snapping on his rubber gloves, he asked: Who did this? When I told
A few minutes before the end of last hour, a 7th grader asked if he could use the bathroom. I already knew enough about this kid to know he would leave and not return--so I told him that he could wait, and use the restroom on his way to the bus. After the bell rang, as I was tidying up the room, I noticed an odor reminiscent of the Greyhound station men's room wafting out of the second practice cubicle.
Next to the boy's instrument case was his trumpet mute, filled with urine; there were traces of liquid on the walls. I called the custodian to help with cleanup. Snapping on his rubber gloves, he asked: Who did this? When I told
