Word: boyness
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...came before him, he did a poor job. He had access to high-caliber weapons in his stepfather's gun cabinet, yet he chose a low-powered .22 rifle to shoot up his high school. He was a practiced shot, yet he aimed low. He was literally a Boy Scout, a pleasant 15-year-old kid who went to church and didn't care for Goth life or Marilyn Manson or Duke Nukem or any of the other cultural markers we have come to expect from our kid killers...
Solomon's shooting ended quickly. Typically, the rifle model he used can fire about a dozen rounds without reloading, and students say he fired about that many shots. They discovered evidence in the boy's bedroom showing he had contemplated the devastation: printouts of bomb recipes, notes on where to plant explosives at the school and rantings about his despair. Solomon wounded six students in all, only one seriously: sophomore Stephanie Laster, who had just stood up from a cafeteria table where she was chatting with a teacher and a girlfriend about a missionary trip she was planning for next...
...entered. His rifle abandoned, he was kneeling on the ground. He pulled out another gun, a powerful .357 magnum revolver, and put the barrel in his mouth. "It's going to be all right," a voice said. "Put it down." Something about the voice must have calmed the boy. He took the gun from his mouth. The voice belonged to assistant principal Cecil Brinkley, into whose arms T.J. then collapsed, shaking. "Oh, my God, I'm so scared," T.J. said...
Rosa had made his way to the school's resource officer. The boy used a cell phone to call his mom. "You need to come here to school," he told her, bringing to life any parent's nightmare. "I've been shot." By the time his mother and stepfather reached the school, Ryan was at the hospital emergency room. His injuries weren't serious, and he was released within hours, though at least for now he will carry the bullet...
...this month different from all other months? Our campus is currently overpopulated with organizations, clubs and networks. By the end of our four years, most of us will be trained to introduce ourselves by regurgitating our resumes and activities as the major forms of identification. The boy behind you in line for storage, rather than funny or cute, is the football player from the A.D. The girl on left spends her days with the International Relations Council and Kirkland HoCo. Sometimes we even forget peoples' given names and just refer to each other as "HRO boy" or "the CHANCE chair...