. . . And Your Little Dog, Too. . . .

tornadoMamacita says:  Halfway through class this afternoon, we heard the city tornado sirens.  These sirens go off every Friday at noon, but today isn’t Friday, and 3:30 isn’t noon.

We’d all been watching the weather closely through our tiny classroom window.  Spring is prime tornado weather here, and it’s been absolutely pouring down rain all day – raining so hard, we couldn’t even see the cars in the parking lot a few yards from that window, and the rushing water was so loud, we felt as if we were inside a big hollow drum and people were dancing on it.

Suddenly, as if a gigantic spigot had been turned, the rain stopped and the sun blazed brightly.  The air grew VERY still and heavy.  The contrast between the booming of the thunder and the surf-like sound of the rainstorm, and this silence,  was ominous.  When you live in southern Indiana, you know what this kind of weather can mean.  We waited for the hail.

The building director came in and sent us to an inside windowless classroom.  Once there, my students whipped out their cell phones and began calling their children’s schools to find out what was going on there.  A few of the children had already boarded their buses and were on the road – those parents became frantic and I told them to go ahead home.  The other children were being held in their schools’ bottom floor.

Anyone who lived south of town was held in the building.  Those who were going to be driving north were allowed to leave.  I stayed, because even though my students aren’t children, they are still my students, and I wasn’t going to leave while any of them were still in the building.

Luckily, the funnel missed us, but the radio did say* that the state park south of town was hit, as were the towns just east and south of here.  The rumor mill is forever grinding away, so I don’t know yet how much of that is true, but I guess I’ll know soon enough.

All in all, it was a scary afternoon.  I’m glad to get home.

I’ve blogged about tornadoes before, but it’s been a while since I was part of an official tornado “procedure.”

It would be very nice if I have to wait a good long time to be part of another one.  Forever, even.

*  That’s how my grandmother talked, after her stroke.  “Radio did say.”  “Your daddy did say.”  My Cousin C and I still giggle over her grammar sometimes.  And a lot of other things.  She’s not just my cousin, you know; she’s also one of my bestest friends.


Comments

. . . And Your Little Dog, Too. . . . — 20 Comments

  1. “Anyone who lived south of town was held in the building. Those who were going to be driving north were allowed to leave. I stayed, because even though my students aren’t children, they are still my students, and I wasn’t going to leave while any of them were still in the building.”

    Amen! While I can’t speak for all circumstances, and wouldn’t dream of dismissing extenuating ones without simple investigation at least, I would look askance on anyone who wouldn’t do this for children, whether they’re teachers at those kids school or simply parents who’s kids invited friends over for a play day. Well done, MamaC!

    “… it’s been a while since I was part of an official tornado “procedure.”

    Heh… I recall one time where I work where being part of the “official procedure” for tornados showed me exactly where I fit in my staff’s notion of things. Our procedure back then when the city tornado siren sounded was to get staff to interior, windowless rooms, first, then sign the phone out, and last notify the boss. I simply sent, not led, my staff to one of the interior rooms. I then worked on the other aspects of our procedure, and got delayed in finding the boss’s phone number.

    Anyway, once that was all done, I hightailed it to the interior room myself. And found I was all alone! Miffed, I went around looking for my staff, only to find them OUTSIDE watching the storm! They were having a blast watching the green clouds boil, seeing the rain curtain out on the horizon, debating among themselves just how powerful this particular storm was…

    BLXNGSMPHTTT!!!!!!!!! (That’s the approximate sound I made at the top of my lungs when I attempted to yell at them, only to end up sputtering).

    Anyway, it was one heck of a hot me who led the staff back into the designated “safe” room in our building. Only to hear the siren fade once I finally got them all in.

    And when I laid into them with the plea about getting me in trouble since I’m responsible for everyone’s safety, yadda yadda, their response? “Oh, heck, we wouldn’t tell on you”.

    😐

    Anyway… you can bet that from that point on, whenever the weather was bad, I made damn well sure I not only had my cell phone nearby, but a laptop too, and I now LEAD staff to the safe room. Much to the amusement of the few veterans still left from that year.

    Them: “Hey, man, we can find it. We know where the room is…” (*smirk*).
    Me: “SHUT UP AND FOLLOW!!!!!!!” (*attempt at mad face*)
    Them, to new folks: “Aw, don’t worry about him. His bark’s worse than his bite.”
    Me: 😐

    Maybe I should become a teacher… middle school aged schoolkids will listen when you tell them to go to another room, right? Right???

  2. “Anyone who lived south of town was held in the building. Those who were going to be driving north were allowed to leave. I stayed, because even though my students aren’t children, they are still my students, and I wasn’t going to leave while any of them were still in the building.”

    Amen! While I can’t speak for all circumstances, and wouldn’t dream of dismissing extenuating ones without simple investigation at least, I would look askance on anyone who wouldn’t do this for children, whether they’re teachers at those kids school or simply parents who’s kids invited friends over for a play day. Well done, MamaC!

    “… it’s been a while since I was part of an official tornado “procedure.”

    Heh… I recall one time where I work where being part of the “official procedure” for tornados showed me exactly where I fit in my staff’s notion of things. Our procedure back then when the city tornado siren sounded was to get staff to interior, windowless rooms, first, then sign the phone out, and last notify the boss. I simply sent, not led, my staff to one of the interior rooms. I then worked on the other aspects of our procedure, and got delayed in finding the boss’s phone number.

    Anyway, once that was all done, I hightailed it to the interior room myself. And found I was all alone! Miffed, I went around looking for my staff, only to find them OUTSIDE watching the storm! They were having a blast watching the green clouds boil, seeing the rain curtain out on the horizon, debating among themselves just how powerful this particular storm was…

    BLXNGSMPHTTT!!!!!!!!! (That’s the approximate sound I made at the top of my lungs when I attempted to yell at them, only to end up sputtering).

    Anyway, it was one heck of a hot me who led the staff back into the designated “safe” room in our building. Only to hear the siren fade once I finally got them all in.

    And when I laid into them with the plea about getting me in trouble since I’m responsible for everyone’s safety, yadda yadda, their response? “Oh, heck, we wouldn’t tell on you”.

    😐

    Anyway… you can bet that from that point on, whenever the weather was bad, I made damn well sure I not only had my cell phone nearby, but a laptop too, and I now LEAD staff to the safe room. Much to the amusement of the few veterans still left from that year.

    Them: “Hey, man, we can find it. We know where the room is…” (*smirk*).
    Me: “SHUT UP AND FOLLOW!!!!!!!” (*attempt at mad face*)
    Them, to new folks: “Aw, don’t worry about him. His bark’s worse than his bite.”
    Me: 😐

    Maybe I should become a teacher… middle school aged schoolkids will listen when you tell them to go to another room, right? Right???

  3. This is why we moved to Colorado. Tornadoes are rare and weak. My husband lost his house to one when he was 12…they were in the basement as the house blew away. So he’s not a fan. 😉 Storms here aren’t nearly as intense. Glad you’re ok!

  4. This is why we moved to Colorado. Tornadoes are rare and weak. My husband lost his house to one when he was 12…they were in the basement as the house blew away. So he’s not a fan. 😉 Storms here aren’t nearly as intense. Glad you’re ok!

  5. Glad the bad weather passed by you! By the way, is the expression “radio did say” similar to the one my grandparents used: “The radio wants rain” or “The newspaper wants snow”? (They meant that rain or snow had been forecast.)

  6. Glad the bad weather passed by you! By the way, is the expression “radio did say” similar to the one my grandparents used: “The radio wants rain” or “The newspaper wants snow”? (They meant that rain or snow had been forecast.)

  7. I have a more than passing acquaintance with twisters, and I wanna say: thank God for the inside room.

    Where I live now, tornados are apparently a novelty for my neighbors. I watched one form in the sky south of my house one day– and jeez, I thought one of this pluses of this hellhole was a lack of funnel clouds– and started gathering kiddies and doggies and anything else and quickly making for the basement (another thing we don’t have back in Oklahoma). There was my neighbor standing there mouth agape as the damn thing was heading right for his doofus noggin, and he shows no sign of going in. He thought it would be safer to watch the storm FROM THE OUTSIDE. In front of a big window with a tree in front of it. Golly. If only he was juggling butcher knives and cleavers, it would have been perfect.

    I am glad everyone is safe in your neck of the woods!

  8. I have a more than passing acquaintance with twisters, and I wanna say: thank God for the inside room.

    Where I live now, tornados are apparently a novelty for my neighbors. I watched one form in the sky south of my house one day– and jeez, I thought one of this pluses of this hellhole was a lack of funnel clouds– and started gathering kiddies and doggies and anything else and quickly making for the basement (another thing we don’t have back in Oklahoma). There was my neighbor standing there mouth agape as the damn thing was heading right for his doofus noggin, and he shows no sign of going in. He thought it would be safer to watch the storm FROM THE OUTSIDE. In front of a big window with a tree in front of it. Golly. If only he was juggling butcher knives and cleavers, it would have been perfect.

    I am glad everyone is safe in your neck of the woods!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.