By Derrick Brown (follow on Twitter @dbrowndbrown)
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Lock And Load (1316 Words)
(64th Day Of School)
(Thursday, November 6, 2025)
By Derrick Brown (Join Our Mailing List!)
Empath Remixes #92 – Lock And Load (64th Day Of School) (1316 Words)
The phrase “lock and load” has traveled with me through many seasons of life.
In high school band, it was a call to readiness ... to line up, focus, and prepare for movement.
My band director used it to rally us before boarding the bus, before halftime performances, and before we marched into the stadium.
It was never about war.
It was about rhythm, discipline, and pride.
I carried that phrase into adulthood as a shorthand for “getting ready to get ready.”
Today, however, I understand its double meaning.
“Lock and load” also means to prepare a weapon for combat ... to brace for engagement.
Both definitions feel true at this moment.
I am preparing for a mission and a battle.
The mission is healing.
The battle is for my peace of mind in an unstable environment.
To fulfill the mission, I must first survive the battle.
To survive the battle, I must leave the field.
These are my last days, and I can feel the weight of that truth.
I am tired in a way that rest cannot repair.
My patience is thin, my tolerance for foolishness thinner still.
I am both teacher and soldier now ... teaching geometry by day while fighting despair by night.
Each morning, I armor myself with civility, patience, and professionalism.
Each afternoon, I remove that armor piece by piece, knowing that the wounds it hides are not imaginary.
Yesterday brought another example of the subtle hostility that lives beneath the surface of this profession.
A yearbook staff representative ... a “confident” White female student who stepped forward … accompanied by a “quiet” Black female student who stood back ... knocked on my classroom door to conduct an interview.
Her tone was casual, almost flippant, and dismissive … and skipped “hello” and all other forms of humane greeting.
This is the kind of “familiar” disrespect that has become normalized in our schools.
She was not overtly rude, but the absence of civility carried its own aggression.
I did not let it go.
I challenged her tone.
Minutes later, I was told that she returned to her advisor “in tears.”
I have lived long enough to understand the peril of those tears.
They are not always malicious, but they are always powerful.
A Black male teacher’s correction can become a “threat” … once filtered through the lens of fragile emotion.
I called her advisor, a White male colleague, after he alerted me about the tears.
I even told him that I was relieved the situation did not involve a White female advisor.
We actually had a civil conversation … free of accusation … full of mutual understanding.
But the incident reinforced what I already know … I am never far from danger in this profession.
My words, my presence, and my tone are always subject to reinterpretation.
The contrast between that conversation … and my meeting with my new evaluating administrator earlier this week is striking.
That meeting felt like a pre-trial hearing ... procedural, cautious, and subtly adversarial.
She reminded me of my former evaluator … furtive, manipulative, and microaggressive in manner.
She smiled without sincerity … complimented without conviction … and listened without hearing.
I have seen this play before.
It ends with containment disguised as coaching.
I am done with that show.
For the remainder of my time here, I will go “incognegro.”
That is not an act of fear but of self-preservation.
I will move quietly, teach diligently, and minimize unnecessary exposure.
I have told a select few students about my upcoming absence ... those I trust to receive it with maturity.
Telling them went well.
The risk, of course, is that secrets rarely stay secret among adolescents.
There have already been leaks.
One student … perhaps out of loyalty … has appointed himself the “sergeant-at-arms” of our class.
He even reprimanded another student for snickering while I spoke.
His intent was good, but it reminded me that boundaries blur easily when adults become vulnerable in front of children.
They will imitate what they admire, even when imitation is misplaced.
I thanked him for his loyalty … then asked him to “ease up.”
I removed my “Mirrors and Windows” decorations from the wall today.
It was a symbolic act ... quiet, decisive, and necessary.
A student noticed.
Most did not.
That felt appropriate.
My work has always been visible … but rarely seen.
The few who recognize its meaning are enough.
They are my remnant.
I will stay in touch with them … not as their teacher, but as their witness.
Teaching today required effort, but it was effort wrapped in exhaustion.
1A’s review session on Quizizz went smoothly.
OP gave great effort.
So did 1B, 2B, and 3B.
For a moment, it felt like normalcy.
Then came the test.
Predictably, the test revealed everything that review had concealed.
KP, who had been absent earlier in the week, arrived unprepared.
I told him he could wait to take the test.
He shrugged and said, “I’m straight.”
Moments later, he and SS were caught collaborating on their phones.
Their reaction was not shame but anger ... not at what they had done, but at being caught.
I addressed them publicly.
They were embarrassed, and I was unapologetic.
Accountability feels like aggression to those unaccustomed to it.
I cannot reward deceit with discretion.
The same erosion of integrity appears in small ways.
Students bristle when I ask them to bring their answer sheets forward.
Some cannot follow the simple visual model of placing the answer sheet on the left and the test on the right.
Others sigh, roll their eyes, or protest as if the act of standing is oppression.
I watch them struggle to follow instructions … or even a visual model … then wonder how they will navigate a world that demands critical thinking, empathy, and endurance.
It is a difficult sight to witness daily.
The foolishness intensifies on test days … even among my “best” classes.
There is a visible decay of focus, respect, and logic.
It is well, but it is not easy.
I can tell that I wrote these words while still on the battlefield.
My tone is sharp.
My grace is frayed.
I am aware that fatigue distorts perception … yet I also know that fatigue can reveal truth.
The truth is that I no longer feel safe or valued in this environment.
My body tells me so.
My headaches, “face cramps,” and dizzy spells tell me so.
The peace I feel when writing tells me what life can feel like elsewhere.
I am locked and loaded for departure ... not in hostility, but in hope.
The “locking” is focus.
The “loading” is preparation.
I am securing my tools ... writing, reflection, rhythm, prayer ... and loading them for the next journey.
I am not carrying weapons … I am carrying words.
They will defend my peace far better than silence ever could.
Leaving is not surrender; it is strategy.
It is what soldiers do when the battle is no longer theirs to fight.
It is what artists do when the canvas has become too small for the vision that burns within them.
I know now that my classroom has been both sanctuary and crucible.
It has forged me and nearly consumed me.
The same energy that sustained my creativity also sustained my containment.
But I am ready to step out of the furnace and breathe.
The mission that remains is to convert pain into prose, exhaustion into evidence, and experience into education.
That is the “marching order” I now follow.
That is the “field” I will prepare next.
So yes, I am locked and loaded ... for peace, not for war.
For home, not for halls.
For freedom, not for familiarity.
My battle is ending.
My healing is beginning.
And this time, I will march to music that I wrote myself.
Selah.
(The "Follow The Leader (changED - Volume 2)" Audio and Video Album / Mixtape is also available at TeachersPayTeachers.com)
(The "changED (Volume 1)" Audio and Video Album / Mixtape is also available at TeachersPayTeachers.com)
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I am a “standup storyteller.”
I fuse rap, spoken word (poetry), oration (traditional public speaking), singing, and teaching into messages of hope, healing, and change that I write, direct, and produce to help people who help people.
Everything must change - and stay changED.
Tradition begins and ends with change.
Change begins with me and the renewing of my mind ... then continues through efforts to effect small-group discipleship (equipping others to equip others) with audiences that respect and embrace mentoring, mediation, and problem solving as tools of change.
I am the product of my mentoring relationships, peacemaking (and peacekeeping), and problem-solving ability.
My education began when I finished school.
After school, I enrolled in a lifelong curriculum that includes classes in ministry, entrepreneurship, stewardship, literacy, numeracy, language, self-identity, self-expression, and analysis / synthesis.
My projects execute a ministry that has evolved from wisdom earned through lessons learned.
I want to share this wisdom to build teams of "triple threat" fellows - mentors, mediators, and problem solvers.
We will collaborate in simple, powerful ways that allow us to help people who help people.
I now know that power is work done efficiently (with wise and skillful use of resources, interests, communication, and expertise).
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