10 years ago today, two boys, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, embarked on a killing spree at Columbine High School. Prior to April 20, 1999, Littleton was virtually an unknown small town near Denver, Colorado. But, at 11:10 a.m. everything changed; the boys arrived at school and prepared to unleash a string of violence that my generation had never seen before.
Like any iconic moment in history I can remember exactly where I was the moment I heard about the shooting. I was a sophmore in high school. I was leaving basketball practice and I noticed 12 missed calls from home on my cell phone. I frantically called my mother back to make sure everything was ok. She then informed me of a shooting at a high school in Colorado. She proceeded to ask me if everything was okay at my school. I assured her it was. I remember going home a short time later and watching the news and seeing images of people the same age as me, bloodied and running in terror. I remember hearing parents screaming the names of their children. I remember seeing students run into each others arms sobbing uncontrolably. And more than anything, I remember seeing video of a student dangling through a broken window - SWAT team officers stood beneath him, pulling him through the shattered bits of glass to safety. 12 students and one teacher were killed that day, 23 others were wounded. And just I remember asking myself why has this happened?
The aftermath of Columbine has been monumentail. Debates have occurred from classrooms to legislative floors over whether this crime could have been prevented. Movies, documentaries, book, and TV shows have adapted the story as a means to bring awareness.
Today is a day of memoriam, not just for those at Columbine at the time of the shooting, but also for those who now walk the halls of the school, and for people like me. I was never there, but that day lives on in my memory. That day helped re-define the rest of my high school experience. That day taught me, at the tender age of 15, about the fragility of human life.
