A bit over a week ago I was finishing up my afternoon class when suddenly there was a loud noise. At first I wasn't sure what it was or where it was coming from, but within a few seconds I realized it was a very loud air raid-type siren and was coming from outside. As I was trying to process what this meant and what I should do next, I looked at the students and noticed that they didn't seem too bothered by it in the least, so I asked, "What is that?" They had to search for the vocabulary but finally came up with words like "army", "invasion", "attack", and "North Korea." Now, I would imagine that normally these words might set fear and panic into the heart of most, but as my students said these words, they looked no more worried than when I announce a quiz for the following day--in fact, less so. So going off them, I didn't run out the door and start heading south.
As this was exactly 2pm, I dismissed the class and found Greg (the boss man) out in the hallway. To my surprise, he came into my room, said "hi", and went to the window and pulled down the blinds. "Strange," I thought quizzically. The siren was still sounding in that familiar WWII documentary the-Germans-are-over-London way when I asked him, looking for a little more clarification than mere words and raising my voice a little so I could be heard, "So what's all this?"
He then told me that it was nothing more than a drill conducted by the city. He said they used to happen once a month but that this was the first in about three or four. He also told me that sometimes we get directions as to what to do and other times not. This time the directions were to lower the blinds and turn off the lights, so he was going around to all the rooms telling the teachers what to do. Other times, he said, they'd had directions to go into the basement of the building or to exit the building. He then went on to tell me that in about 15 minutes there would be another siren which was the "all clear" signal and that we would then be able to turn the lights back on and raise the shades.
As I peeked out the window, probably defying the local authorities and risking imprisonment, I noticed that life on the street seemed pretty status quo. People were walking, cars were moving, construction was still going...nothing changed. Greg told me though that this hadn't always been the case. In years past traffic stopped, people stopped walking, and basically the city shut down until the all clear was sounded. So I asked, "You mean people would literally stop walking and stand in place for 15 minutes?!" He then told me that some did, but that most continued walking to the next major intersection where the traffic light would not allow them to cross until the all clear. So they'd wait there. "Strange," I thought.
As two o'clock marks the end of my last class, I made my way down to the teachers' room and sat at my desk. Luckily the internet was still working, so I just surfed around and then texted Ami to ask if she had heard the siren. Initially she said no, but as we were texting, the all clear sounded and she told me that she was, indeed, hearing it but that she had missed the first. So I guess if North Korea ever does attack, Ami will be the last to know and I feel sorry for the North Korean soldier who either wakes her up or interrupts her show.
As I peeked out the window, probably defying the local authorities and risking imprisonment, I noticed that life on the street seemed pretty status quo. People were walking, cars were moving, construction was still going...nothing changed. Greg told me though that this hadn't always been the case. In years past traffic stopped, people stopped walking, and basically the city shut down until the all clear was sounded. So I asked, "You mean people would literally stop walking and stand in place for 15 minutes?!" He then told me that some did, but that most continued walking to the next major intersection where the traffic light would not allow them to cross until the all clear. So they'd wait there. "Strange," I thought.
As two o'clock marks the end of my last class, I made my way down to the teachers' room and sat at my desk. Luckily the internet was still working, so I just surfed around and then texted Ami to ask if she had heard the siren. Initially she said no, but as we were texting, the all clear sounded and she told me that she was, indeed, hearing it but that she had missed the first. So I guess if North Korea ever does attack, Ami will be the last to know and I feel sorry for the North Korean soldier who either wakes her up or interrupts her show.
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