My heart is so saddened by the Connecticut event, as is everyone.  The President said what we are all feeling, "our hearts are broken".  How any parent can send their child to school on Monday, without a worry after this has happened, I cannot imagine.  I go to Sabra's every morning to watch the kids get on the bus.  The bus comes, and Henry and Solomon and the little girl across the street, hurry to the bus steps.  The steps are high and the two little ones have to really reach to get up them.  "Little soldiers" I think and have more than once said, as I watch them go.  Innocence and trust personified.

When I went to Spring Street School there was no need for security.  The school was a tall brick building, so old that half of it was condemned and only used once a year for our physicals.  The teachers were all women, even the principal.  The only man in the building was the janitor, a quiet man that was only called in when the toilets were overflowing or someone had been sick in a class room. Oh, we had drills, fire drills and then with the Russian scare, Air-raid drills.  We would go out into the hall, sit down against the wall and put our head in our hands, making a tight little ball.  This was scarey enough.  But no thought of a gunman, or a lockdown.  Poor, poor children.  Poor, poor parents, our hears are broken.