Word Problems for Active-Shooter Drills

You have to say Here! as loud as you can
              so your teacher knows that you’re here.
You can hide anywhere. The only rule is be

still and quiet until the teacher calls your name. 
              “Is everyone quiet?” I ask my daughter.
“Sometimes,” she says. I want to know

the names of the loud children, the ones
              who might give my daughter away, her tiny body 
folded like a paper balloon flattened

by the books in the library, or crouched
              under the table in the play kitchen. I want 
to give her tips on finding the best places to hide

until her classroom becomes a blueprint
              for a bad game of Clue. In the craft closet 
with bulletproof paint or the cubby

underneath all her friends’ coats. I try
              to imagine a version of Green Eggs and Ham
where Sam-I-Am peddles not verdant brunch

but a loaded gun. Here or there? he insists. 
              How do I teach my child to say No.
I don’t want them at all in a voice that makes

Sam listen? My friend has twin boys 
              who share a cell phone. The boys
take turns keeping the phone. “But what if

we’re not together when it happens?”
              they ask. “Who should we call first?” Here 
we try to teach our children that some questions

have no right answer, not even a best choice,
              like the tests that ask small children to determine 
which glass holds more water: the tall or the short one

and how to find the expendable child
              in an imaginary class. How can you possibly 
figure that math when everyone is told to hold still

on their bellies? The boys’ mother tells them
              to call the police if a real stranger comes. 
“Other people will call 911. We want to call you,”

they say. At the end of the game, the teacher 
              hands out stickers the children press onto
their shirts, even the loud ones. Even my daughter

says the tall glass holds more, though
              the glasses hold the same amount of water.
My daughter won’t believe me when I tell her

the truth. She trusts her own judgment. Wouldn’t you?
              The children move on to games grown-ups 
aren’t interested in playing with them. We’re left

standing dumb and alone on the wrong side 
              of everything, listening to those twin
boys whisper, “Here, Mother, we’re here.”

Read more from Issue 18.1.