Over the years, in numerous covers for this magazine, the artist Chris Ware has drawn inspiration again and again from his experiences raising his daughter, Clara, and from his wife, Marnie, and her job as a teacher. He has caught moments that feel bittersweet, humorous, sad, and joyful.
This April, Clara, now seventeen and a senior, came home and said, “Somebody brought a gun to school today, but the police stopped him before he got inside.” A shiver spread across my neck and back. I asked if the school had gone into lockdown. She said no, adding that the students hadn’t even been notified of the event until school had been let out, several hours later.
Then Clara finally described a lockdown for me. It usually involves the teacher turning off all the lights and lining the students up against the wall farthest from the door. Then the teacher sits down closest to the door, acting as a human shield. Perhaps this was the scenario experienced by the children who died in the shootings in Parkland and Santa Fe.
Pausing for a moment in her explanation, Clara said she suddenly realized the police had apprehended the student during her passing period. “Why does that matter?” I asked. “Because,” she said, “if there had been a real lockdown with a shooter in the building, they would’ve locked the doors to all the classrooms, and I and any other kids who hadn’t been in a classroom would’ve been stuck out in the hallway. We couldn’t have gotten back in.
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