My First Protest: A 6th Grader’s #MarchForOurLives Experience

March 26, 2018
In the unedited words of an 11-year-old kid…

Hello, internet. My name is Trey. You probably don’t know me, but if you do, it might be because my stepdad talks a lot about me online. I’m not sure why.

Anyway, I’m 11-years-old and in the 6th grade. About a month ago, not too long after the school shooting in Florida, I experienced a lockdown at my school where we didn’t know what was happening, and while the lockdown was only precautionary and we were in no danger, we didn’t know that until after it was over. The entire experience was terrifying, especially for me, because I pay attention to things going on in the world today. Like school shootings.

The entire situation was very frightening because of what had just happened on Valentine’s Day in Florida, and at the time, it seemed like it was happening to us. Here, at my school. Also, knowing that gun control has not been controlled (and still hasn’t been), it sent shivers up my bones, leaving me one of the most scared kids in the room.

Being so scared, I immediately took precautions in a way that probably wouldn’t have actually done anything, but it made me feel safe, so that helped. During the time, I was in 3rd period, which is a visual effects class because I go to a technology school that has all sorts of cool stuff…like toy lightsabers in the prop room we use for projects. In my infinite wisdom, I devised a plan that would protect me from anyone who might invade my classroom.

It involved toy lightsabers.
And pencils. Very sharp pencils.
It was a whole thing.

I sprinted to the prop room, opened the door, and grabbed the first lightsaber I saw. Then, I gathered all the pencils I had, flew to my teacher’s desk, and began furiously jamming every single one of them into his sharpener until I finished in a matter of five seconds flat, victoriously holding my pencils in my hand, my plan almost complete. I rushed over to the table where I’d put the lightsaber, grabbed some tape from my binder, and began to fashion the most impressive, terrifying spear anyone could ever imagine being made from a toy lightsaber and pencils. By an 11-year-old.

It wasn’t that impressive.

If it had been a weapon in a video game, it would have done negative damage and broken on the first hit. But it was all I had, and it was enough. Of course, immediately after I finished my spectacular spear of ultimate destruction, my teacher told me to take it apart. (Teachers apparently frown on spectacular spears of ultimate destruction. Weird.)

Which is when I learned no one was actually attacking my school. There was just something going on down the road, and my principal locked down our school just to be extra safe – but at the time, it felt real. And that’s the point.

Ever since this happened, I haven’t exactly felt traumatized, but it’s still been there, in the back of my head, like that feeling you get when you think someone’s watching you. I didn’t like it, but I think I can image what kids who have actually been through a shooting or a real lockdown might feel like, which is why, when my stepdad told me about the March For Our Lives protests happening across the country, I was immediately interested in going to the one happening here.

Both me and my stepdad had no idea what the march would be like, considering we had both never been to a protest before. My stepdad was explaining what it might be like, and he mentioned that people sometimes make signs. I realized I had leftover poster board from an earlier Math project, so I grabbed a magic marker and went to work. I wrote on both sides of the poster board, used a ruler as a handle, and it was ready. We headed out to the march.

When we got there, we didn’t get there. Wait, let me explain.

We didn’t know how many people would show up, but it was more than we thought and my stepdad was having a lot of trouble finding a place to park, so we ended up driving around the protest two or three times before we finally found a parking space way down the street. Once we’d journey across the countryside over to where the protest was taking place, we saw nearly 100 people holding signs and shouting phrases.

It was a little intimidating.

We awkwardly walked over and discovered that a lot of people had the same signs, which made me think that we were supposed to print out a special sign to bring. I was wrong. They just had some there for people who hadn’t made their own signs.

Once we got out of our awkward phase (specifically me, because my stepdad is always awkward), I started really getting into it. I was jumping up and down, flailing my sign and spinning it around as I tried to get cars to honk in support. Most cars did. Some cars didn’t, and a few cars shouted nasty things. (How dare you say that around children!) Of course, there weren’t really many children there. During the entire time, I was surprised at how few students there were at the protest. It was mostly people even older than my stepdad, but at least a few high school kids were there.

The entire experience was very memorable.

Serious talk now. The entire situation on school shootings and gun control deserves to be fixed, and as a tween, I don’t think I should have to be worrying about whether or not I’m going to be able to defend myself if a shooting happens, outside of school or not, when I’m supposed to be thinking about the proper way to construct a persuasive essay or if I’ve completed my chores or not. (I usually haven’t. Ask my mom. She’ll tell you.)

This entire situation should not have been an issue to begin with. It’s not like us kids actually have a choice on this. We have to go to school. Parents make us. (Trust me, I’ve tried to get out of it. It never works. Ask my mom. She’ll tell you.)

Today, I heard about a senator who said kids shouldn’t be looking for someone else to solve our problem, but it’s not a problem we created. The most we can do is start these protests to try and at least get some public attention toward it. I respect everyone’s opinion, but don’t tell us to stop protesting the problem, until you start fixing the problem.

I don’t know how to solve these issues. I just want to feel safe at school, and I think all students do. Plus, I’m only 11-years-old, and sometimes I forget to do my homework. I can’t fix America’s gun problem or school shootings, but I can at least have a voice in raising awareness for it.

Please listen.

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NOTE:  I know times are hard and yeah, I need to make a living too, but if you want to read any of my books but can't afford to buy them right now, hit me up.

I'll take care of it.

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