Hello, everyone. I’m Deena Morsilli, a junior at Gilroy High.
Yes, that’s right; I’m a Morsilli, the little sister of the now
infamous Chris Morsilli, who wrote this column for the past two
years.
Hello, everyone. I’m Deena Morsilli, a junior at Gilroy High. Yes, that’s right; I’m a Morsilli, the little sister of the now infamous Chris Morsilli, who wrote this column for the past two years.
But let’s get this out in the open right now: I am not my brother’s sister.
Okay, so biologically speaking I am. At least that’s what I’ve been told for the past 16 years (personally, I still think he’s adopted.)
What I mean is, don’t expect my column to be merely a continuation of my brother’s, because I am an entirely different person.
That said, the school year is now in full swing as we are well into the second quarter.
First-quarter graders have come out, much to the dismay of students campuswide. We have had two fashions shows, one supporting the journalism program, and one as fundraiser for the girls tennis team, and a talent show put on by the ArtLit magazine. An entire season of fall sports has taken place, full of triumph and heartbreak.
The buzz on campus recently was due to a lockdown drill.
Apparently, the administration decided that it is time we practice this, seeing as how there was already a lockdown a few weeks ago. (This, conveniently enough, was after school during a presentation on what to do during a lockdown.)
The lockdown drill was supposed to be a secret, but by brunch on Monday, roughly half the students knew we would be having a lockdown sometime during the week in third period.
The lockdown drill began at exactly 11am in my third period Advanced Placement English class on a recent Tuesday. When the alarm bell rang, sounding like bad techno music, some of my classmates pretended to dance to it. The atmosphere in my class was very nonchalant, as we were all confident that we would survive the drill.
We built our “barrier,” stacked three desks high, and hid behind it.
When the inspectors came by to check our barrier, we were told that we had to re-do it because you could still see through it. To solve this problem, we opened umbrellas and used them as shields, as well as a giant piece of paper that featured a stick figure and the word “decoy” that was taped over the door.
The inspectors didn’t think that our sign was very funny.
I believe their exact words after opening the door were, “That’s not funny.”
We however, found it very entertaining.
After all, what difference does it make if you put up a sign saying “decoy?”
It’s not like the sign alone will inform any intruder that there are students hiding in the classroom. It is, after all, a school. I think the fact that there are 30-something desks stacked in front of the door should tip them off.
All in all, it’s a very good thing that we are being prepared for what might happen, even if some people do not take the drills as seriously as they should.
Deena Morsilli is a Gilroy High School student who writes a bi-weekly column for the Dispatch. Reach her at Mo************@*ol.com
