I was teaching in middle school in Des Moines, Iowa on the day the
tragedy at Columbine High School occurred ten years ago. I was 35,
engaged to be married that summer and had been teaching for a dozen
years, working mainly with working class and at-risk kids.
By
the spring of 1999, Des Moines had seen some of the worst gang violence
in its history. At the middle school where I had worked previously,
many of my students were involved in gangs. They were drug dealers who
hid their weapons in the lockers at the beginning of the school day,
wore bling - before it was called that - and flashed wads of cash that
no fourteen or fifteen year old should have access to.
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