In the first semester of my freshman year in high school, our school was overtaken by what we thought was a Russian militia. It turned out to be a training exercise for the National Guard, and an educational experience for us as students. It had a profound and lasting effect on me. From that day forward when I would see news of a school in Russia or other similar countries overtaken and held hostage I knew firsthand the fear that they felt. For me it was an educational experience, but for them it is a way of life. It was an ordinary Tuesday morning at Texas High School, or so I thought. I was a headstrong freshman in the innocent pre-terrorism days before 9-11. I was above average academically, and possibly sub-par socially, but I was merely trying to get acquainted with my new surroundings. My biggest challenge was just trying to avoid upper class bullies. Everyone was filing into the gym before the bell would ring that would signify that start of another uneventful day. Everyone went to talk to their friends in groups as though we were caucusing for political office. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The same teachers were uninterested providing supervision, as though they had been called to jury duty for a traffic stop, but little did we know that this was not just any Tuesday. About five minutes before the opening bell rang we heard an awkward roar, which just seemed out of place, coming from the rear of the building. What seemed like instantaneously the doors on the back of the gym simultaneously flew open as though they were being ripped off of the hinges by a tornado. The football field was situated directly behind the gym so that when all of the doors were open you had a panoramic view of the field. All I could see were helicopters. Then what seemed like an innumerable force of men blacked out from head to toe equipped with fully automatic assault rifles came through the doors. We were ordered to get on the floor and