Ten years ago, on June 12, my mother died. She was 62. I think of her often, especially when my children do something spectacular or stupid, knowing she would thoroughly enjoy both. As much as I regret having already lived a quarter of my life without my mother, her greatest act – that of a grandmother – was largely denied. I knew what kind of mother she was. I imagine the kind of grandmother should have been.
It would be futile and unfair to try to summarize her life or my feelings on this anniversary. Those who knew her will commemorate the reminder of her death with their own memories. For those who did not know her, I invite you to read what follows. My mother was an elementary school principal, an outstanding one. When she retired, she lasted a summer or so and went back to work, talking on a new school with greater challenges. When she died that school named the media center in her memory.
But there is a greater story. On September 26, 1988, a 19-year-old entered the school and opened fire in the cafeteria and classrooms. Several were shot and two young girls lost their lives. While not uncommon today, it was unthinkable then. There was no model, not template, and certainly no expectation that such a horror would ever happen, let alone in a lovely town in South Carolina.
A couple of years ago I found my mother’s copy of her handwritten statement to the police. I have transcribed it, keeping it exactly as she wrote, with the exception of the names, which I have redacted.
Eleanor Rice
Monday, Sept. 26
As I was walking down the hall coming from the second grade wing, I was met by second grade teacher, L** ***** ******. She was screaming, “There’s a man with a gun!” I asked her to repeat what she was saying. She said, “there’s a man with a gun and he’s shooting.” I asked, “Where?” She pointed down the hall toward the cafeteria.
I then heard shots – These were coming from down the third/fourth grade hall. I ran to my office and pushed the red “panic” button which alerts the police station that the Oakland burglar alarm has been activated.
I left the office + started getting children out of the building – from the halls + classrooms. L*** ****** met me in the hall + asked what she could do. I asked her to help me get all kids out of the building. We went through the building sending children + teachers to the woods.
As I walked toward the fourth grade hall at the rear entrance, I saw a man walking around the corner of the building outside. I started walking toward him. I asked if I could help him. He responded, “They’re after me.” I asked, “Who’s after you?” At this point I thought he may have ducked into our building trying to get away from someone else. However, the more he talked, I realized he was the gunman. He put his hands in his pocket and brought out his driver’s license, social security card, library card, + one other. He said, “I have identification. I have identification.”
I then told him to raise his hands and I frisked him. He did not have a gun at this time.
P***** ******** was standing there. I gave him the identification cards and seeing that the man was not armed now told P****** to watch him while I went to find the police.
I went up the fourth grade hall, P**** ************ was in her room with ******* until the EMS could get there.
By this time the police were there as well as the ambulances.
This was written on the day of the event. On a yellow legal pad, her handwriting is neat. The amount of poise to write without shaking is incomprehensible to me. There is only one correction. He thoughts were clear. The grammar is textbook. The only sign of fatigue is the switch to the shorthand “+” for “and” beginning in the third paragraph.
She cleared the school, frisked the gunman, and then oversaw the emergency response. If you want to understand something about my mother, I can think of no better example. Poise, professionalism, and strength. That same leadership extended far beyond that horrible day. She led the school into a vision that was not defined by senseless death, but purpose and hope. Therefore it was all too fitting that a school that bore her spirit, should also bear her name.
I often wonder how she would navigate today’s world. But then again, I already know.
