The red-letter anniversaries are coming thick and fast here in the Parallel Julieverse. No sooner have we finished toasting the 50th Anniversary of Thoroughly Modern Millie, than it’s time to charge the glasses for another milestone in the annals of Julie-history: the Diamond Jubilee of Cinderella. The celebrated tele-musical premiered 60 years ago on 31 March 1957.
It would be no exaggeration to call Cinderella a major cultural event of the late-1950s. The first television musical created by legendary composer-lyricist team Rodgers and Hammerstein, the show was seen by a record audience of over 100 million viewers, enough, it was pointed out, “to fill a Broadway theatre seven days a week for 165 years” (Messing, 61). Even today, Cinderalla remains one of the most widely seen programs in television history (Hischak, 152).
Julie was, at the time, riding high on the success of another Cinderella musical, My Fair Lady so she was the perfect fit to play the fairytale princess. As these production stills attest, she never looked lovelier and the critics were enraptured.
“Perhaps it’s the unassuming simplicity of Mis Andrews, or the crystal clear articulation, or yet again the perfect pitch, that transforms her performance (as in “My Fair Lady”) to the definitive characterization. No two ways about it, she was Cinderella” (Variety, 42).
“Miss Andrews was Miss Andrews, sweet, beautiful and lyrical. Her only minor problem was that she was fully as beautiful behind the broom and under the tiara” (Gould, 49).
“As Cinderella, Julie Andrews was the personification of innocence. Her face, her style, her talent added up to that rare quality that makes a performer a star” (Torre, 5).
So happy anniversary, Cinderella…thank you for sixty years of fol-de-rol and fiddle-dee-dee enchantment!
Gould, Jack. “TV: Broadway Musical.” The New York Times. 1 April 1957: 49.
Hischak, Thomas S. “Cinderella.” The Oxford Companion to the American Musical: Theatre, Film, and Television. New York: Oxford University Press, 2008.
Messing, Harold. CBS Television Production of ‘Cinderella‘. (Unpublished Masters thesis). Stanford University, 1957.
“Review: Cinderella.” Variety. 3 April 1957: 42.
Torre, Martha. “Cinderella.” The New York Herald Tribune. 1 April 1957: 5.
“We should go, like, get some….lunch…sometime…at the same time…together.” he says to you, his hands shoved in his pockets.
You look up from your laptop, glancing at Peter who’s been sitting at the foot of your bed for the last hour. You guys have been talking, playing Uno, and eating whatever snacks Steve picked up at the store.
“Yeah sounds good. Let’s see if anyone else wants to come.” you say absentmindedly, hopping off the bed and walking into the kitchen.
“Well I was thinking that maybe uh just me and you can er go with just um us…” he tries, his voice trailing off.
He’s been trying to ask you out for weeks. But every time he does, Tony or Wanda or Steve end up tagging along and it becomes a friend thing instead of a real date.
“Maybe later. I’m not really hungry and I’ve got a training session with Natasha.” you say, glancing at the digital clock on the microwave, “Actually, I gotta go right now. See ya later.“
You grab a water bottle from the fridge and give him a soft smile before bouncing off to the training gym.
"Dude.” someone says from behind Peter, “That was pitiful."
He turns around sharply, heat rushing to his cheeks. Tony, Bucky, Steve, and Sam are sitting in the living room, look at him amused.
"What?” he asks in a small voice, trying to act like he didn’t just fail at asking you out…again.
“What?” Tony mimics, making his voice high and girly, “You asking y/n to lunch, that’s what."
The other guys laugh along with Tony, causing Peter’s cheeks to blush even darker.
"First of all, I don’t sound like that.” Peter says, making his voice deeper, “And second, I wasn’t asking y/n out. We’re friends. That’s it."
"Oh please. You’ve had a crush on y/n since she was first recruited.” Steve laughs, shaking his head, "And according to your phone, you haven’t stopped since.“
Peter’s eyes grow wide as he checks his pockets for the phone he knows is not there. He’s not the kind to keep a diary or journal or anything like that. But on his phone are texts he’s written but never sent, ones confessing the extreme crush he has on you. And others he’s sent to Aunt May, telling her about you.
“Y/n, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. We’ve known each other for a while now. And, I don’t know exactly how to say this, but…” Tony reads straight from your phone, making him cringe.
The guys begin cracking up as Peter groans aloud, wishing he could melt into the floor.
“And that’s not even the worst of it.” Bucky says, taking the phone from Tony to read it himself, “It’s the texts to his aunt that are the real gold.”
“Oh god…” Peter mutters under his breath, humiliation making his stomach queasy.
Before they can go any further, Peter shoots a web from his left wrist, aiming it right for his phone.
Bucky’s metal arm shoots up, blocking the web.
“Nice try Parker.” Bucky smiles, tossing the phone to Sam.
“She’s great Aunt May.” Sam starts to read, “Her smile makes her eyes scrunch up at the corners. And her laugh is contagious. She’s really nice and pretty but she’s also super smart. And she’s so funny…”
“Aww Parker, why don’t you ever talk about me this way?” Steve asks teasingly.
Peter, unable to take it anymore, goes for another shot at the phone in Sam’s hands. Sam in turn throws it to Steve.
“Come and get it!” Steve grins, waving the phone at him.
Anger and embarrassment rise in Peter’s chest as Steve continues to read. Without even thinking, he jumps over the kitchen counter and dives for the phone, only to be knocked to the side by Steve’s muscular forearm.
“But the greatest thing about her-” Steve continues, holding the phone away from Peter as he struggles to snatch it back.
He shoots yet another web that misses completely and Steve throws the phone back to Sam.
“-is the way she acts around me. It’s like we’ve known each other all our lives. I can tell her anything-” Sam reads with fake passion.
There’s a chorus of laughter from the rest of the guys that makes Peter wince. He rolls from under Steve’s grip and lunges at him, his fingers grazing the phone for a split second before Sam chucks it to Tony.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone…” Tony laughs.
“About who?” comes a questioning voice that makes everyone freeze.
Slowly, very slowly, everyone’s head turns to y/n who is standing in the doorway.
“Y/n, I thought you were training with Nat…” Peter says shakily, wondering how much you’ve heard.
“She had an assignment…why are you guys all staring at me?” you ask with a smile, touching your hair self consciously.
All the guys look at Peter, waiting to see what his next move is.
“Who were you talking about Tony?” you ask again, walking to the living room and sitting next to Tony.
“Oh, I was just reading this lovely fiction story Peter wrote. You should really read it sometime y/n, he’s a gifted author. And you’re in it.” Tony answers, nodding in exaggeration.
“Hm, you never told me about this story Peter. Who am I in it?” you ask, taking a sip from your water bottle.
For a split second, all the guys are silent. Steve covers his face with his hands and Bucky seems to be suppressing a smile unsuccessfully. Peter quickly stands up from the couch and makes his way over to you, snatching his cell phone from Tony’s hands.
“I’ll show you it later. Let’s go hang out in the gym.” he says rushingly, grabbing your wrist and leading you to the hallway.
You pull your arm out of his grip, looking back at the guys.
“Why are you guys acting so weird?” you ask all of them, the atmosphere secretive, like they know something you don’t.
“It was nothing.” Steve says, nodding at Peter, “We are gonna go pick up some lunch, why don’t you guys come?”
You look at Peter curiously, but he just shrugs.
“Yeah I guess.” you say, “Lemme change out of these workout clothes.”
Peter waits until your bedroom door shuts before sighing in relief.
“Thanks for not telling her.” Peter says begrudgingly, crossing his arms.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t count on it for too much longer. You gotta tell her Peter.” Steve says, “She’s a good one, if you don’t make a move soon, someone else will.”
He gives Peter a clap on the back before walking off with the rest of the guys.
“Y/n is better than most gals, don’t lose her.” Bucky nods, giving him an understanding smile.
//can you do an imagine where the reader steps in to defend Peter from some guys at school because she knows he can’t use his powers but it somehow ends up with Peter defending the reader? oh and can the reader also be an Avenger because I love it when you write the reader as having powers too. and idk maybe some of the team will show up? thxxxxx//
warning: mild cussing, mild violence, mentions of blood
“I’ll meet you at the water fountain before lunch, got it? Aunt May put both our lunch money in your book bag so I don’t wanna have to search all over school for you.” you say to Peter, nudging his arm and giving his a serious look.
You’ve been staying at Peter’s house for the past two weeks while your parents are out of town doing god knows what. You usually stay at home by yourself, but when Aunt May found out you’d been eating ramen noodles for dinner every night, she insisted you stay with her and Peter.
Peter’s been your best friend since…forever. You’ve slept over his house since you were in first grade, but only for weekends or on summer break. But now you two have practically been living together on and off for a year and it’s been an adventure to say the least.
Especially since every so often you two are called away on missions with the Avengers. Something about fighting crime together really brings two friends closer. That and the fact that you two are the only ones outside of the team who know about each other’s powers, makes you closer than any two people on the planet.
“Yeah I know y/n. Water fountain, got it.” he says with fake annoyance before turning the corner to to his next class, “See ya later.”
You give him a lazy wave as you turn sharply on your heel to drag your feet to Advanced Algebra 101.
“Oh god, my textbook.” you mutter to yourself, rushing to your locker to find the book among the clutter.
By the time you fiddle the lock open, the hallways are clear. You know you’re going to be extremely late considering your classroom is on the other side of the school.
You grumble curse words frustratedly as you speed walk down the shortcut most kids are too nervous to take. It can basically cut any route to a class in half, but in order to get there, you have to pass the east wing bathroom. It’s where all the kids who wanna ditch but can’t, because security guards roam the campus, hang out. They gather to talk trash and smoke overpriced weed that is probably just oregano, not that they could tell the difference.
But they get bored quick and like to grab any idiot kid who walks too close, shoving their head in the toilet or making them eat wet paper towels. It’s childish, but affective in keeping people away from their spot.
“You’re such a bitch.” an amused voice rings, stopping you in your tracks.
You’re an inch away from the west wing bathroom, one more step and you’d be spotted. You start to take a step back when your sneakers make a shrill squeaking sound against the linoleum floors.
“Who’s that?” another voice calls, walking out of the bathroom doorway right where you were standing.
If you’d been there he’d have gotten you for sure. But your body is pressed against the ceiling, sneakers in hand. You know you shouldn’t be using your powers in school, especially without a mask on, but it’s an impulse thing.
When the muscular football playing looking guy is out of view, you slowly gather a gust of wind to carry you to the ground.
Peter and the rest of the team like to joke and call you “the last airbender” because you can control the elements. Well, most of them. You’re still working on water. But fire, air, and earth you’ve got all under control.
You tuck your squeaky sneakers behind an unused recycling bin, backing against the wall and sidestepping to the corner. You peak your head around into the open boys bathroom door, not even daring to breathe.
“Got some money for me Parker?” the taunting voice asks rhetorically and you barely stop a gasp from escaping your lips.
There are three guys in the small space, only one of which you recognize. One of them is rummaging through Peter’s backpack, the other, Drew who you know from English, is counting the lunch money Aunt May left, and the last guy is holding Peter by the front of his hoodie, forcing him against the tile wall.
“That’s not mine.” Peter says harshly, his hands clenched into fists, “It’s for-”
Before he can finish the sentence you’re sure will end with your name, the one with the money, Drew, takes a long stride and socks him right in the face. The wave of laughter that ripples through them is enough to block out your string of curses.
Peter opens his mouth in pain, brushing his fingers against his sure to be bruised jaw and busted lip.
“It’s for who Parker? Your girlfriend?” Drew asks sarcastically, examining his knuckles, “Y/n’s her name right? She’s a little too…dorky for my dating taste. But I’d still bang her.”
You roll your eyes, used to hearing the way immature boys talk. But Peter hates when anyone talks about you, ever.
Peter freezes for a split second, his eyes glassing over with sharp anger.
“She wouldn’t come near you if you guys were the last two humans on earth.” he says through clenched teeth, spitting dark blood on the ground like they do in the movies.
“I don’t know.” Drew shrugs, “Some flowers, smooth talking, graphic novels or whatever you geeks like, and she’d be putty in my hands.”
Before your brain can comprehend what your legs are doing, you’ve stepped around the corner and into the bathroom.
“I actually prefer comic books.” you retort sharply before Peter can defend you and get hit again.
“Y/n don’t-” Peter urges, his words cut off by another strong blow to the stomach.
On pure instinct, you slide forward in two easy strides and sweep Drew to the ground. Your hands tighten around his collar as your fists rears back to punch him in the throat. Anger radiates from every inch of your body, only building with every second.
It’s then that you notice the gurgling sound from the toilets behind you. Like boiling water that’s gone over the edge. The four sinks in front of you start to vibrate and drip with water, but no one has turned them on.
It’s your powers.
The other two guys gaze at you with momentary fear, but it’s Peter’s intense look that makes you realize the flaw in your plan. You’re not supposed to be strong or fast or able to overpower a teenage guy twice your size. If you finish this, if you punch this kid in the throat like he deserves, the faucets could explode or water could jump from the toilets like a geyser. Your cover could be blown. You have no idea how to control the water aspect of your powers, if anger built the pressure up, the release of it could set it off.
Peter shakes his head so slightly you barely catch it. But you loosen your grip on Drew’s collar just enough for him to slip out of it. He takes a second to get to his feet, and you just stand there pretending to be dumbfounded by his “quick” escape. The rattling and gurgling of the water stops.
You don’t put up any defenses, only expecting him to push you out of the restroom or maybe take your backpack and look through it. But the moment he’s regained his balance, his arm shoots up and his meaty fist collides with your left eye.
There’s a split second of silence that feels like an eternity.
Drew wears a cocky smile, satisfied with his attempt to regain his pride. Peter’s face seems to change in slow motion, turning from relief that you didn’t flood the bathroom, to horror at the way your head snaps to the side with force. Your fingers touch the area around your eye tenderly, only to come back soaked with blood. You catch your own reflection in the mirror, blood streaming down your face like tears. It feels like you stare into your own eyes for hours, trying to piece together how he actually hit you, and how there is so much blood from such a small cut.
It’s Peter that snaps you out of your trance, that, and your tense instinct to lunge for Drew’s throat.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Peter whispers, shattering the silence that falls around you.
And just like that, you and Peter spring into action.
Blowing your cover doesn’t cross you or Peter’s mind as you swirl a heavy gust of wind around you, throwing it into Drew’s chest. His body flies into the long mirror above the sink, cracking it straight down the middle.
Webs fly all around you, only followed by frightened shouts. You and Peter are so in sync you dodge every web he strings and he dodges the blows you throw. Your adrenaline builds so strongly, the ground begins to shake underneath your feet.
You spread both your palms to the ground, closing your fists and rising your arms in one swift motion. Roots spring up through the tile ground, tying Drew and his two guys together with their backs to each other.
Then comes the whirring sound, one you and Peter both recognize as helicopter propellors.
“Natasha.” you say in unison, catching each other’s eyes.
You both know what to do now.
You pull the tree roots back into the ground, leaving the three guys sprawled on the ground. You quickly fill the earth with soil that pulls itself from the tile floor, using wind to pull the scattered webs in with it.
A hole is cut in the center of the bathroom ceiling and none other than Natasha herself jumps through.
“Cracked mirror, missing tiles in the floor, and three soon to be forgetful teenage boys. I can’t leave you two alone for two minutes can I?” Nat says, pulling three syringes from her belt, “Peter, get you and Ms.Airbender out of here. Now. We’ve gotta get a cleanup crew in here ASAP.”
Before you can get a word in edgewise, Peter wraps one hand around your waist and lifts the other straight into the air, shooting a web that attaches to the hovering helicopter. You both fall inside, panting heavily.
“Sorry you got punched in the mouth.” you sigh, strapping your seatbelt on.
“Sorry you got punched in the eye.” he sighs back, a smile playing on his bleeding lips.
He pulls a first-aid kit from under his chair, taking out a moist wipe and dabbing the cut under your eye.
“It’ll need stitches.” he mutters, putting a band-aid with a cotton swab underneath on the cut.
You don’t realize how tired you are until you rest your head against Peter’s shoulder. Your eyelids begin to droop as the steady whir of the helicopter lulls you to sleep. The last thing you feel is Peter’s arm wrap around your shoulders protectively as you are pulled into a soft sleep.
User walinpch: “I was a Sophmore at Northern Illinois University when Cole Hall was shot
up. At the time I was in my dorm getting finishing my school work
before my girlfriend came out for Valentines Day. My roommate was just
about to leave for class, which would have been in Cole Hall, when my RA
came into our room and calmly told us there had been reports of a
shooting and to not leave the dorm. At first it hadn’t really sunk in
what was actually going on but then we went to the window and could see
about 3 or 4 helicopters circling the campus. Then we turned on the news
and realized how serious the situation was. During the first hour or 2 I
remember getting calls from everyone I new seeing if I was ok and
myself texting as many of my friends as I could to make sure they were
all ok. Cell service was really bad due to the amount of people getting
calls and texts. My roommate and my best friend both had the next class
in the auditorium that was shot up. Another one of my friends was in
building next to Cole Hall when it happened and had a bunch of injured
people running for safety into her building.
I think it was like a week before spring break so the school cancelled
that week and when we came back to school Cole Hall was completely
closed off. I remember the first few days back teachers weren’t really
pushing students to complete assignments and more of them were
interested in talking about what happened. They brought in extra
sercurity to walk the halls which was a little distracting but they also
brought in snacks and a lot of therapy dogs for at least the first
weeks to help students feel more at ease. I also remember there was a
lot of controversy about people treating the shooter as some sort of
victim and people burning a cross or something like that, that was put
out because he was someone who was ‘lost’ before the shooting. I’m not
sure why that stuck with me. I remember the memorial going up right by
Cole Hall but I still don’t know if Cole Hall is there anymore. I moved
to AZ right after college and when I go home now to visit family I never
have a car to take and visit. I still want to go someday just to walk
User garglius:“Finally something I can answer to on reddit and its something as dark as this.
I was at Dawson College in Montreal when on September 13th 2006,
Kimveer Gill shot up the school wounding 19 people and killing one girl.
I was on the 6th floor in a chemistry lab as it happened. My phone
rang and I excused myself to answer it since its rare that it rings (I
usually text). It was my mom asking if I was okay because there seemed
to be a shooter in the school. I told her I was fine, and that it was
probably just a fluke, since the week earlier we had been evacuated for a
When I got back to class EVERYONE was on their phone or trying to
look out the windows. Our teacher told us that we wouldn’t be allowed to
leave class until further notice and that a suspected shooter was in
the school. We could see swarms of cops surrounding the school and
sirens were blaring everywhere.
A good while later, a police officer came to the door of our class to
tell us that we had to stay there until the entire school had been
searched (they did not know how many shooters there was at the time and
were making sure everyone was safe). Once that happened and a cop came
to escort us out, we essentially went through the school as if it was a
maze (instead of taking the stairs down to the closest exit, they made
us go down 1 or 2 flights, walk down halls, down different stairs, etc.)
We did this until we got to the atrium, which was the room where the
main shooting had happened.
In the atrium it looked like a battlefield. Broken glass, blood,
abandoned bags and belongings everywhere. We got rushed out past what I
imagine was Gill’s body bag into a flurry of reporters wanting to know
how it was on the inside. I answered a few questions for one and then
tried to meet up with some friends (which was hard, since cellphone
lines were always full). Finally found them, and one of my friends dad
drove us home after we stopped for some food.
Now to answer your question. After returning (which was 2 weeks after
if I recall) all the classes were considered 'optional’ for a good
amount of time. Classtime was spent talking about the events that
unfolded and people were encouraged to share whatever they wanted to
help them get through the tragedy. Class curriculums were reworked in
order to accomodate a shorter semester. Exams were delayed or cancelled.
My canoe camping trip was pushed from mid september to mid october (big
difference temperature wisr in Canada). People were allowed to drop out
from the semester without penalty. It took a good month for things to
pick back up to normal pace and by the winter semester, you wouldn’t of
been able to tell from the attitude of the students that something
horrible had happened a few months prior. They did install a huge amount
of extra surveillance inside the school though as they were fixing the
So that’s pretty much it. I’d be happy to answer questions if anything is unclear or if it seems I left anything out.”
User Dudemancool3: “Well. Let’s just start with a basic summary. Low security at the gym
section of Reynolds High School in Troutdale, OR. I was a freshman. The
shooter was as well. It was the first day of finals, probably 6-14
minutes before class started and we began. Shooter was in locker room
with “guitar case” and geared up when the lone victim Emilio Hoffman
walked in. Shooter grabbed a gun and shot him once. Killing him on spot.
Two teachers run over, shooter fires, grazes a teacher who runs out to
office to put school in lockdown. Responders come and trap shooter.
After that nothing exciting happens. I was sitting in the corner of my
language arts class. In the dark. Listening to a police scanner.
Eventually police escort us out with hands up and we get searched. The
rat of the day and months following are a blur. Coming back was bad.
They remodeled the gym so it looked different. I still walk in the
locker room and bathroom and think “people died here”. I don’t feel safe
in school and never will. I’m consistently on edge when in the main
building. It’s worse in the gym. No one has felt safe. Every June 10th
is worse. Some of us handle it better. Some of us don’t. The school
won’t ever be the same. Ever. They can clean up blood and bullet holes
but they can’t erase memories.”
User csp256: “One
of the professors at my university (Amy Bishop) shot six other
professors (who I didn’t know) in the face during a meeting before her
gun jammed. Three of them died.
We all knew she was crazy and we all expected something like this to happen. She even made jokes about it the year before.
She came and talked to a “careers in science” style Freshman class,
and during the Q&A she derailed the conversation to how tenure works
and how cut throat it is to get, and another student asked what would
happen if she was denied tenure. Her response, the one sided smile on
her face, the way she said “well…” and laughed in the way that people
do not laugh - every single alarm bell in my head went off. I knew she
was planning on killing someone. I had the misfortune of growing up in a way where I learned at a
young age to tell the difference between someone who was really fucked
in the head and someone who just had a couple of problems, and I was
100% certain Amy Bishop was a killer. But, fuck, what was I supposed to
Turns out, she had already murdered her brother, sent pipe bombs to
people who stood in her way, wrote “fiction” books about someone who
murdered their brother & kills people after being denied tenure, and
had a history of physical violence with random strangers too. The
university never did a background check. There was at least one other
professor openly campaigning to have her fired because she was, uh,
obviously a dangerously crazy person.
The day of, I told a friend of mine that there had been a shooting at our school. His first reaction was “Dr Bishop?”
I was off campus for the actual shooting, working across the street.
Our workplace didn’t go into lockdown; we worked with kids. It was just a
couple minutes after I first checked the news that she had been
They evacuated a building on campus while I was in it a couple weeks
later because there was fears she had placed a Herpes virus-based weapon
(she had done work on the Herpes virus). Turns out she was just talking
shit - but it was what had happened in her book about herself.
I’ve never been in the room where the shooting happened. They
retroactively took her name off of EVERY document it was on. Legal or
not, all of her research got her name scrubbed off of it. We got a new
slogan for our school out of it (“Charge On”), and we had therapy dogs
come to every class for a week or two later. It never really effected
me. I felt like I had been primed for it in some way.
Two weeks prior to this, my former elementary school had a fatal
shooting. An abused boy was told by his addict mother that he had to
earn for his family, and another student owed him money and wouldn’t
give it back, so he shot him in the head. I don’t usually have a lot of
sympathy for murderers, but I hope that kid gets the help he needs and
manages to live his life. As I’ve been led to understood, he was pushed
into it by his shit stain of a mother. Amy Bishop can burn, though.
It is a funny thing: In that “careers in science” class Amy Bishop
talked to us about her research, where momentarily stopping and
restarting a persons heart ~2 hours before heart surgery significantly
decreased the damage caused by the much more invasive heart surgery.
There is a symmetry between that, and the shooting in my home town.
PS: Never mind how her husband mighhhht have been complicit. He was
seen giving her the bag with ammo et al the day of the shooting, and
knew about most or all of her history… including her fan fiction of
User DunblaneUser:“Hope I’m not too late.
1996, when I was 7, a man came into our school and killed 16 children
and their teacher. I remember that we were in the classroom down the
hall to the hall where assemblies and PE used to happen.
Our Teacher was handing out our books when we heard the first round
of guns shots. I remember not actually knowing what was going on but our
teacher told us to get to the back of the classroom and stay quiet. She
moved the tables infront of the door and started barricading them.
I remember the guns shots we’re in succession. Groups of two. I
remember it took so long for the shots to stop, and I was just frozen. I
was aware something was happening, but was mostly scared of how
panicked and scared our teacher was. The look of fear on her face still
haunts me. We waited maybe 3-5 minutes and then shots came in through
the door. I remember there was no screaming but just curled up children
on the floor. Our teacher stayed on the door whilst the gunshots came
through. They hit chairs and the library near us. It went quiet then I
just remember a single shot. We waited 10 minutes before my teacher went
out. She told us to stay on the floor and hide till she came back.
The police came and we taken out of the classroom through the
windows. We couldn’t go through the hallway because of the bodies in the
gym. I just remember my mother running up to me in panic and hugging
We had a lot of time off, and we all went to the funeral. My mother
took me out of that school and after I had to talk to psychologists,
because my mother thought it was the best thing to do.
I’m now 27 and I’m still haunted by what happened that day. As I grow
much older I feel much more responsible for what happened. Whilst
children were getting shot, I was in a room hiding. I sometimes think of
how those children would have grown up.“
User Denso95:“German school shooting, about 16 people were killed there in 2009.
I never came back to this school. I was in 7th or 8th grade, I don’t
know. We had to stay in containers for like 3 years, then the school
would be okay to go in again with many new things and security doors all
over the place. I didn’t get to see that because I left school just
before everyone else went in.
As long as the containers were built we had to stay in another school
for a few weeks. They organized special rooms for us. Our school was a
“Realschule” (Like Middle school), the other one was a “Hauptschule”
(Lower Education School). So those uneducated “Hauptschüler” were
laughing at us for what happened. People died, but hey… not a big deal
- in their opinion. They were joking about doing something similar and
simulated gun sounds. Like wtf?
So at some point in a lesson we heard noises very similar to gun
sounds. That close after the main event some girls freaked the fuck out
of there, screaming. The teacher and boys followed, other classes joined
and it was a mass panic. I remember how I went into a guy from the
other school, he was laughing and was amused by all the people running
So, police arrived and we all were in their gym waiting for the
officer to clear things out, people were crying and panic was still
there. The reason for the noise was a construction worker and his hammer
working on something. False alarm. School was off for that day.
The next room he would enter would be ours. Thank god someone called
the cops that early - otherwise I’m not sure if I would be still alive.“
stayed for the week of cancelled classes after the 2007 shooting at
Virginia Tech. Lost a couple friends and an instructor that had become a
good mentor and the only reason I was safer than they were was because
I’d already stopped going to class. The place was a ghost town, minus
the news reporters that acted like vultures every time I walked outside
wearing anything maroon or orange.
I ended up tossing every piece of Hokie gear I had in a dumpster and
hopping on a plane to Ireland, using the money I’d saved for school to
instead travel for 3 years. I told no one except my brother.
At first it was rough - lots of drinking (before the shootings too).
And every time I made the mistake of telling someone I was from
Virginia, or even a former student at an American university, it was all
they wanted to talk about. But once I (and my new friends) got out of
Europe and the news cycle rolled on, this became less of an issue.
I returned to Virginia Tech in 2010 with a new set of problems, but
one thing I remembered was how the time felt like a giant reset button.
Everyone I knew that was there during the shootings was gone and the
campus had very few reminders aside from the designated memorial.
Even today, with my regular involvement with Blacksburg and Virginia
Tech, most either don’t know what really happened or don’t believe I was
there. The only time shit gets weird is when there’s a security warning
on campus (like the emails that got blasted to a bunch of schools last
User GetTheHelOut:“I know I’m late to the party but fuck it I made an account just for this so here goes:
I was a freshman during the UCSB/Isla Vista shooting. It happened on a
friday evening, so most of my floormates were out in the floor lounge
watching TV. I was on my way down to a brother’s pre-graduation party
when I ran into a friend who said shots had been heard and the building
was on lockdown. Overall not many people knew it was very serious at the
time, we had gotten plenty of alerts like this from campus security
before because plenty of sketchy stuff goes down in IV. Once the
lockdown happened we knew it was the real deal.
I didn’t know the names of the dead until the next day. The school
held a candlight vigil where thousands and thousands of people
participated – it was honestly the most beautiful and heartbreaking
experience I’ve ever participated in. We walked from Storke Plaza on
campus to a park in Isla Vista, where friends and family members had an
opportunity to speak about their memories of our fallen students. I
assumed that nobody I knew would be among the dead but I was wrong.
Two of my friends, Veronika and Katie, had been walking to get coffee
and food, when they were gunned down. I know the place where they died.
I walk or skate by it every day on my way to campus.
The experience changed me. I dropped out of school for almost two
years and am just now coming back. I no longer have the same naivete
about mortality or life that I once did.
But that’s not the worst part for me. The terrible part about a
school shooting is that they are forgotten so quickly. I’m supposed to
be a senior now; the only people who were in Isla Vista for the massacre
are my class. A full 75%+ of students weren’t there for it, and the
names and faces of my friends who died, as well as the four other
victims, are almost erased.
I’m sorry for getting so emotional and for the terrible formatting
(posting from mobile), but I needed to get all that off of my chest.
Thank you for letting me do so.”
High School shooting in 1998. I was a freshman and went to Springfield
High School, Faith Kinkel was my teacher at the time. This was the “big
shooting” that happened before Columbine. Kip Kinkel shot and killed his
parents and then drove their van to Thurston High and opened fire in
the cafeteria the next day.
The news spread fast across town to our school that morning, but it
took awhile for all of the details to start coming in. Kids started
being pulled from class as parents were hearing the news. There was an
announcement around the second or third class of the day that there had
been a tragedy at Thurston High and if we needed to leave that we please
checkout through the office. Then it came, fourth period, the principal
announced that Bill and Faith Kinkel had been found murdered in their
home. Complete breakdown. Teachers stopped teaching, most were in the
hallways holding each other and crying. Students just kind of left or
wandered the school or went to common areas to find out what others
My friend and I were in a computer typing class together that period,
but we were also in Faith Kinkel’s Spanish class at the end of the day
as well. There was no way we were going to wait around or step foot in
that classroom. We grabbed our bags and checked out. We walked home
together, mostly in silence, we both carried disc-men at the time and
both tuned out the world. My parents waited for us, I had called from
the office to let them know to expect us. My dad bought us pizza and we
played video games, but anytime I started to feel a little better or
momentarily forget the day, I would feel absolute guilt and sadness.
The whole thing was surreal. Luckily it was a three day weekend and I
had plans to visit a friend in Bend (about 3 hours away). It was all
over the news, but the distance of the weekend helped to escape it a
bit. Returning to Springfield was emotional. I had my mom drive us by
Thurston High, I wanted to see the memorial wall, it was heartbreaking,
news vans still lingered.
When it came time to go back to school we were told we had access to
counseling and of course anyone that was a student of Faith’s was not
required to go to class. I went though, they had counsellors and we all
sat and talked about her class and her. A lot of tears, lots of
memories, we also had a handful of laughs remembering her. Faith Kinkel
taught Spanish at Springfield High, and she was a great teacher (and I’m
not just saying that because of what happened, I have had plenty of
terrible teachers, she wasn’t one of them). She actually talked about
Kip a lot in her class and would tell stories about their family
vacation. She would share family pictures and show us different things
they had purchased in Mexico. The school year luckily ended a few weeks
When the UCC shooting happened last year I was still living an hour
from Roseburg in Eugene. It broke me for about a week, everything I had
felt 17 years ago came right back. It’s always tragic and a bit
terrifying when you hear about shootings and the like, but when it’s
right in your backyard or it directly affects your life it’s hard to
was 12 at Westside Middle School in 1998. The direct changes to the
school were that they closed off the areas where the shooting happened
for a while, until they replaced the sidewalks and patched up the
damage. Due to the media coverage, we all knew what the scene looked
like. Many people handled the situation in very different ways. The
majority carried on as usual, but with a twist. I don’t have citations
to back it up, but our graduating class had more pregnancies and drug
addictions among the actual graduates than any class before or after (we
were handled pretty carefully in retrospect). Personally, I went weird
and would alternate between “goth” kid and tie-dye, which got me a
disturbing amount of negative attention, being in the semi-deep-South.”
User knightfall: “I
went to Columbine and was a sophomore during the shooting. We went to
our rival school (Chatfield) to finish the year. We had classes, but a
lot of them didn’t really do anything. Math was the only class that
really tried to get back to normal. We also had tons of assemblies when
random celebrities would show up.
The following year we returned to
Columbine, I remember a lot of
parents built a human wall around the school to keep reporters out.
Things returned to normal fairly quickly the next year. It was always
weird with the school being remodeled though. Area where library used
to be was gone.
Getting your stuff back was a huge problem though. They
cars and other belongings for several months. This created a lot of
issues as most high school students don’t have multiple cars to get to
school. Also, a lot of us left our backpacks when we finally got out of
the school. I always had my wallet in there, so I didn’t have any
credit cards, ids, etc. Also, the sprinklers came on after so when I
did finally get my stuff back is was moldy and mostly ruined. I don’t
mean for this to sound whiny that I lost some belongings while others
were paralyzed or even dead. Just something I never would have thought
about had it not happened.
I seem to be getting a lot of the same questions so I’ll do my best to
address them here.
Credit Card:. Debit card or ATM card would probably
have been a
better term for most. I did have a credit card from my parents as they
were teaching me credit. I paid the balance not them. I was in my
twenties before I realized how credit card companies made money. I was
taught to pay the balance off every month to avoid interest and I
assumed everyone did that.
Did I know the shooters: I was not friends
with either of them. I
knew Dylan a little bit growing up, but did not really talk to him in
high school. If I remember correctly, Eric worked at a pizza place
(Blackjack?) near the school. They were both older than me and hung out
with a different crowd than I did.“