Alriiight, since everyone's asking about the gunman story, OP here'll deliver the goods. This is gonna be darker though than the post above. Also, long AF- I'll put a Tl;dr on the bottom!
Shitty ghetto elementary school is shitty. We were really close to a prison, so we had a significant amount of lockdowns while escaped convicts and crazy people tore across our school grounds and through the residental streets our school bordered. I'd say at least 2 or 3 a year with all the goods- armed cops, police helicopters circling overhead, booming speaker voice telling everyone to stay inside cause crazy armed people, etc. We had a lot of lockdown drills... honestly this policy backfired, because we all became so desensitized to the threat that lockdowns were treated more as an inconvenience than a "someone with a gun is on our school grounds and ready to hurt people."
This was one of those times. Setting: that shitty free after school program my school provided. My working parents had no other option... I was molested by an older boy at the only other daycare available, not to mention the cost was extraordinary. (My mom couldn't afford to stop working either, so I definitely don't wanna hear a WORD about "well why didn't she just stop working if this was that bad???" Because having food is important that's why)
The crazy dude in question was a little extra crazy- setting our school's posters (student body elections were soon, so campaign posters) on fire, throwing bricks through windows, waving around a gun and destroying what little we had, etc. We weren't taking the drill that seriously, but it was a "don't leave the room alone and don't leave unless you absolutely have to." I was given one of my bullies as a "bathroom buddy" so I could use the bathroom... but the second I started doing my business (and couldn't stop) they bolted cackling.
I was terrified- you have to know, I was only 9 at the time. I knew I needed to stay quiet in the stall, but I was waiting for her to come back at least, or for one of the adults to come get me, seeing as my "buddy" would be returning alone. Surprise... no one bothered to check where I was. And while I was beginning to cry (and trying to be quiet so he wouldn't possibly hear) I could hear him smashing glass and (to my ears) getting close. Eventually I did what you're not supposed to do and got out of the stall, and waited by the inside of the bathroom entrance to make my dash back to the classroom. I poke my head out... in time to see him throw something on fire through a portable window (not very far from where I was). I bolted. BTW, it's impossible to run quietly, but at that point my young self had just gotten the very painful lesson that I could get killed and literally no one I knew would notice or care. I just wanted to get back into safety. They almost didn't let me back into the classroom because the door was locked (because lockdown) and I didn't have my buddy. I eventually get inside, my mom's there, next thing I know my 9 year old ass is getting hightailed outta there so fast my head could spin. I never went to that after school program again, and less than a week later I was unenrolled from the school and began homeschooling.
Now, my mom's perspective, which I didn't learn until much older:
She was used to having to deal with events like this at pickup, cause, y'know... ghetto ass school. But she gets there (after having to fight to be told which classroom I was in), and I'm not there. Seriously, where was Undoxx? She asked the chicks (shitty ass 20ish year olds) and they have no clue OR fucks to give, they lazily wave to the bathroom buddy smugly coloring and respond something along the lines of "well her bathroom buddy's here," to which my mother responded "IF SHE'S HERE THEN WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER." Apparently if I hadn't walked in right when I did, she would have hit the call button- she had 911 dialed and was going to report child kidnapping and endangerment, as they had, y'know, taken me and wouldn't give me back and didn't know where I was. Those bitches are fucking lucky.
I could ask my mom for details but last time I did (after I heard her side of the story) I got some of her good ol' fashioned Sicilian Mother(tm)- aka some violent swearing, gesticulating and a very believable account of exactly how she discussed the situation with the "bitchass twatwaffle fuckers who lost my goddamn daughter, dense ass pieces of useless shit" (love you mom).
She felt really guilty for what happened to me, but there was just no other option. No family, no friends, no way for her to leave work- it just was a shit situation. I actually don't remember the molestation at the other daycare, but apparently it happened for weeks before I told my mom and she used her Sicilian Mother(tm) language on the daycare (I was 4 at the time, he was 10 I believe?)
So yeah. That happened.
Tl;dr ghetto elementary school is ghetto AF and I am bad at telling a short story. Also, police helicopters are called ghetto birds, and the last time I called them that accidentally in front of the kids at my affluent high school they treated me like a hood rat for days (an odd... respect? I don't even know, ghettos aren't cool)