Hoax bomb calls to Victorian schools: Parent tells of panic
WHEN you see “incident”, “threatening” and “police” in an email from your child’s school you don’t stop to read it again, you start driving, writes Lucie Morris Marr.
Opinion
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FIRST came the panic.
When you glance at the words “incident”, “threatening” and “police” in an email from your child’s school you don’t stop to read it again properly or call a friend.
You just start driving.
It didn’t matter that you knew the series of supposedly “hoax” threats had occurred in previous days across Australia. That all becomes a blur.
Primal instinct takes over; all you can process as a mother is that there is trouble at your child’s school and you just want them in your arms. End of story.
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Parents are like coiled springs; ostensibly we seem relaxed, but if we feel our children are in danger we are ready to strike. Yesterday was proof of that.
I witnessed my usually cool, calm friends in a usually safe, peaceful suburb of Melbourne screeching to a halt on council strips and running to the school gate with a look of steely determination across their pale faces.
Some were carrying newborn babies. All of us were carrying large amounts of anxiety. We couldn’t help it.
Our school turned out to be one of more than 20 across the state that received a threatening phone call yesterday, causing instant lockdowns and evacuations.
It was a repeat of similar threats over the last few days, and yet again today, causing widespread upheaval at the start of the new school year.
Upheaval, which meant my own five-year-old daughter spent her fourth day of prep cowering under her desk.
“The loud speaker said ‘get down,’ ” her little voice whispered to me last night as she went to bed full of questions and confusion.
“Why did I have to eat lunch under my desk Mummy?”
Small children don’t have the vernacular to comprehend the complexities of a hoax or prank.
To primary-aged schoolchildren, this experience was just hideously scary and confusing.
Counsellors are in our school today. For good reason.
Like so many parents in Victoria today, I have been left feeling extremely angry.
Angry on behalf of our children. And angry on behalf of the stoic, brave teachers who had to cope with the ensuing fallout and panic in their classrooms.
How dare the perpetrators behind this wicked act bring disruption and anxiety to tiny innocent children like mine and so many thousands of others when they are just starting their school lives? It’s beyond evil.
My son, aged seven, had been parted from his bag and didn’t eat for several hours becoming pale and distressed by the time we were finally reunited just before 5pm.
He had witnessed 40 armed police officers rush to check each classroom and lock down all the entrances.
Luckily, he seems to have bought the story cleverly peddled by quick-thinking teachers that the police were at the school for a “practice.”
He actually seemed impressed. What he was told they were practising for I have no idea.
This is a boy whose likes cuddling his pet rabbit while watching Disney Junior. Like most parents we try our best not to let him see the news or violent films.
But yesterday the darkness we all try to protect our children from stormed into his own playground; police cars blocked school gates and setup roadblocks while TV helicopters buzzed and they broadcast the unfolding drama live to the nation.
By the time I got to the school gates I was greeted with a scene which was a mix of Homeland meets CSI.
For many of the gathered mothers it was too much. Many hugged as tears flowed. They just wanted to take their children. But we faced a long and agonising wait.
For those of us who arrived as soon as we received the first email, we had to give our children’s names to the police officers guarding the gates.
They were in charge of the school and calling the shots — which we were told later was part of the school’s emergency management plan.
Initially, they were writing the names of our most treasured possessions on bright pink, jaunty post-its. It was nauseating.
I was one of the lucky ones. Having arrived early they were able to have enough police personnel on hand to go and collect my daughter.
She came out a little bemused, without her bag, and gave me a ticking off as I held her tight in my arms like she’d been born again.
“We were about to watch a movie under the desk mummy,” she said, “Why did you come and get me early?”
I’d asked for them to bring out my son, but it took a terribly long two hours of waiting as nearly 600 pupils were processed.
More lists for each year group were taken by police officers.
We were effectively made to request that our child be released by the police in charge, so they could ensure they were put in the care of their parents. It was necessary of course.
The safety of the children was paramount.
But in the heat and the panic, it began to get fraught at times as hundreds of parents crowded around the gate, asking again and again when their child would come out.
My son was one of the last to emerge. I lifted him into the air like a toddler in jubilation. He was naturally mortified.
He said he was starving. I drove them to the nearest garage and said they could chose whichever snack they wanted. They both chose Pringles (the tallest version) and lemonade.
Other mums were there buying supersized turquoise slushies. It was time to spoil, not to worry about additive numbers.
But amid the relief came the aftermath of questions and shock.
“I think one sad part about all of this, is that it’s something the children will never forget,” a friend wrote to me this morning.
“My son wondered if it would happen at home. He said: ‘Will someone call and threaten to bomb our house?’ ”
For our school, hopefully the threat will never happen again. But it’s clear the questions, confusion and fear will remain for some time to come.
This perpetrator needs to be stopped. And soon.
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