All Rise

I showed up for jury duty in Brockton on Tuesday of this week, firmly believing I would be sent right home. A low level nausea came with me that day and I shrugged it off as me being out of my routine. As we sat in the waiting room, I read I Like You by Amy Sedaris, a warped guide to hospitality. I tried to stifle my laugh when I came across her suggestion that you fill your medicine cabinet with marbles so you can identify the “nosey guest” and dispose of any hostess gifts you don’t like before the person who has given them dies so that you don’t end up holding onto the object “out of guilt.” Anyone watching me read would have thought I had issues. Amy Sedaris is funnier than her brother David. There, I said it.

The time came to watch our civic duty movie, one that really needs to be redone. My stomach continued to grumble and groan and I contemplated what grossness I could select from the vending machine to help settle it. Before I could make a choice, it was time for us to line up and head into the court. “All rise! Jurors entering.” the court officer announced as we walked into the courtroom, me inwardly reciting the intro to Law & Order, hoping to see Sam Waterston sitting at one of the tables. The nature of the case was explained, the jurors were asked to raise cards to indicate any biases or conflicts. One by one we were called up to the judge’s bench to answer questions, a process that was painfully slow. When they got to me, Juror # 7, the main question that stood out for me was if I had any obligations that would prevent me from coming back the next day. “Well, I’m a teacher.” I said meekly as I stared up at the judge like a preschooler. “We’ll get you a note.” she said, wrinkling her nose. “OK” was the only thing I could say. Authority figures have always frightened me. I stepped away from the bench, the judge and both lawyers talked for all of five seconds. “Would Juror number 7 please take seat number 3.” I felt like I was in the top ten of American Idol but filled with dread instead of excitement.

“Great!” I thought as I ran through the list of excuses I could pull out of my pocket to get out of this. Mom, teacher, caregiver, insane…. But, I’m just too scared to speak up in places like that and way too honest to bend any truth. Both my stomach discomfort and nausea increased and my skin started to get that “I’m about to be sick” feeling. “I wonder if I have Covid” I thought for the 400,000,000th time. When the incomplete jury panel and rejected jurors were dismissed for the day, my eyes were burning and my muscles ached. All signs pointed toward virus. I begged the kids to go easy on me that night and managed to get us all in bed before 10. When I’m sick, like really sick, the kids are all thrown off just as I am thrown off when my Mom is sick. It’s like seeing horses lie down as Meg always says. I take that as a compliment.

Before 5 AM on Wednesday, I woke with that “oh my god I am sick feeling.” I feverishly texted my friends about what one does if one is sick while on a jury. All it took was Meg texting her sister (a lawyer) who expressed concern that I would get arrested for not showing up. I sucked.it.up, made tea and toast, took a negative Covid test, and headed on my way to beautiful Brockton. Today was the day we needed to complete our jury panel. Mind you, the trial had not even begun yet. I sat in seat number 3, trying to will the virus away. All I wanted to do was sleep. By 11, the jury panel was complete and we were shuffled off into a room to make awkward conversation. “I only got a half hour sleep” Jeremy, a college student, admitted. “I didn’t even know until this morning I had to come here.” We all tasked ourselves with being Jeremy’s prodder if need be. Thirty minutes later, we were shuffled back into the courtroom and the trial finally began.

I’d go into the many details of this case but I think it can be best summed up as an example of the commonwealth not fully doing its job. I can imagine these cases get dropped in ADA’s laps perhaps moments before opening arguments and it shows. At one point, prosecution tried to use a letter to the editor from a peer reviewed journal as evidence to combat expert testimony. The elderly expert witness spotted that immediately and shot.it.down. As a teacher, I was disappointed in the prosecutor and thoroughly impressed by the witness. “This is a letter to the editor not a peer reviewed article. Anyone could have written this.” he said ever so smugly. I mean, come on. To be honest, I’m not even sure why this case was allowed to go to trial. It seemed to be an inefficient use of energy, time, and money. But, I am a cog in the wheel of education NOT the judicial system. What do I know? At any rate, due to the lack of evidence and presence of reasonable doubt, we had no choice but to return a “not guilty” verdict. Whenever anyone deliberating started to talk about “what about this” or “what about that”, I got annoyed because those whatabouts didn’t matter without reliable evidence. “If it doesn’t fit, you must acquit.”

After we delivered a verdict and were released from duty, I became aware of just how much tension I had held in my jaw. I still didn’t feel good, didn’t want to eat, and my muscles felt like I had been punched around. By nighttime, the waves of nausea were steady and strong, my intestines sounded like a bowling alley. I woke up at 5 yesterday morning, threw up, and then dealt with the repercussions of my holding a stomach bug at bay for three days. It was just as awful as it sounds. So, begrudgingly, I called out sick after three days of jury duty. Ugh.

Today, I sit here and write, traumatized by just how much has happened in 5 days. Did I also mention that my two boys had medical situations that needed to be speedily addressed on Monday afternoon? Isaac had gotten a foreign body in his eye which Mass Eye and Ear emergency department was able to retrieve and J.D. had a sprained big toe and foot, not broken as I had suspected. No wonder I got sick. The busyness of this week with the weight of what happened in Texas is too much for me to take in. If you thought I wasn’t going to mention it, you don’t know me well. I’m sensitive and angry, exhausted and enraged. These few things should be accepted by all without ifs, ands, or buts: 18 is too young to buy a gun, background checks should be thorough and universal, assault rifles are for the battlefield (and even that hurts to say), and ALL children deserve to feel safe in school WITHOUT the need to turn their learning environments into places with prison-like security OR by installing safe rooms. I teach the young for a living and this week has only solidified that calling for me. All year I have put emotional needs of these kids first, almost to a fault. Why? Because I know that it is the child on the razor thin edge that matters most, not the grades. The crux of the matter in Texas is that a child was legally able to buy two assault rifles and thousands of rounds of ammunition. We can call him evil all we want but the true evil is us allowing him to make the purchases in the first place. Of that crime we are ALL guilty and we cannot rest until we make that right. STOP pointing fingers at the failures of that day (that poor teacher who propped a door open) and listen to the tiny voice of a survivor recounting how she smeared her classmates’ blood on her and played dead in order to avoid getting shot and go scream somewhere privately or publicly. Don’t worry gunslinger Sullys and Sharons of the world, you can keep your dang guns—I don’t want them. What I do want is change and it looks like these kids that fill the hallways of schools across this country want change too. I heard the words “all rise” many times this week and I think that should be our new rally cry. When I saw that students in Lynn walked out in protest yesterday, my heart swelled with pride. The protests outside the NRA convention were also inspiring. These extinguished lives deserve our demands that a few who hold the reigns do something for once. I suspect the three children I have raised and the thousands I have taught will lead us to a more perfect Union. All rise, we are all on trial now.