Walking into Northview High School on the morning of March 14, 2018 felt like any other day. I was wearing an orange shirt with my heavy blue Northface jacket. I made my usual morning stops — at the library and the school store. It was my friend's 17th birthday. As we surprised her with balloons and laughed together, there was one thought that would not evade out minds: the walkout.
It's been on the minds of all high schoolers around the country for the past one month since the Parkland shooting. Our school, Northview, even had a GroupMe chat with around 500 students who were interested in the walkout. The first period of the school day passed like usual. Second period came around, but there weren't too many students in class. Some had skipped while others were at chemistry Olympiad testing. My Spanish teacher wasn't in the classroom, so instead, we had a sub.
This was the case for many other classes as well. Some teachers had taken an day off; others were still in the building but wouldn't be in class. Finally around 9:40, some of the students in my class looked up. We glanced around at each other, unsure of what to do. Two girls finally got up and gathered their things, and my friends and I followed suit. There were some students who chose to stay behind, whatever their reason may be — whether they were afraid of getting an unexcused absence or whether they didn't support the movement, I didn't know. Out of my class, about 10 students, including me, left.
We walked down the silent, empty halls, nerves rushing through our body. As we made our way to the gym, we peered through the windows of other classes — they were all full. We continued walking, muttering among ourselves in hushed voices. Those hushed voices got louder and louder. I finally turned around and saw that our group of 10 had become a group of 50. People were leaving their classes as they saw us walking.
And so we walked. We exited the school doors, and a chilly breeze skinned my face. We shivered together but continued walking down to the softball field. As we made our way down, the group of 50, had become around 300, if not more. Students were wearing orange, carrying posters and taking videos and photographs.
A rush of pride hit me. We had done it; we had stood up. One girl performed a slam poem. Another boy said an inspiring speech. Yet they were all saying the same thing — this fight was only something we could accomplish together. Even though we had heard the past couple of days that teachers wouldn't be allow to participate, I saw my Spanish teacher and AP U.S History teacher stand with us on the sidelines. I saw our principal standing on side as well. Parents stood outside the fence of the softball field. There were police cars outside the field and in the senior parking lot.
After all the speeches were made, we stood in silence for 10 minutes. And even though many people still tell me that one school walking out won't do anything, I tell them that if every high school around the country does this today, then it means something. It means that we want change.
Then we made our way back inside, the heat hitting our bodies from head to toe. I bid my friends farewell as I walked back to class. As I entered my Spanish class, I saw a girl on the phone. She was leaving a voicemail for our senator. I heard her mutter to herself, "I'll keep calling until they pick up."
The same thing that happened at my school, happened at hundreds of high schools around the country. Most students didn't care about the consequences — unexcused absences, in-school suspension, detention or whatnot. Because in context, with our lives on the line, an absence or a detention seems so little. So yes, I walked out. I walked out, not with just 300 students of Northview High, but with thousands of students around the country.
Walking into Northview on March 14, it felt like any other day. But walking out, I felt like I had done something. If I, along with my peers, can do something like this — we can do so much more. Every movement starts with a spark. As Dante Alghiera once said, "From a tiny spark may burst a mighty flame"
