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TIME: Almanac 1990s
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<text id=93TT2456>
<title>
Feb. 08, 1993: The Knife in the Book Bag
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
Feb. 08, 1993 Cyberpunk
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
SOCIETY, Page 37
The Knife in the Book Bag
</hdr>
<body>
<p>When two girls decided to kill their English teacher, fellow
students bet their lunch money on the outcome
</p>
<p>By JON D. HULL CHICAGO - With reporting by Sophfronia Scott
Gregory/Lorain
</p>
<p> After the final bets were in, Okiki, a 13-year-old honor
student, sat stony-faced at her desk in English class, silently
preparing to collect a couple of hundred dollars on a dare. She
had settled on a simple plan. Just wait for the bell to ring,
reach into her book bag, grab the 12-in. fillet knife she had
brought from home and stab the teacher in the chest while
Marlena, a 12-year-old accomplice, pinned her down. Then--whoosh--instant respect.
</p>
<p> With minutes to go, Okiki just stared straight ahead at
the teacher, her arms tightly crossed. What could possibly run
through the mind of a 13-year-old girl when she is about to
kill? How hard to strike? How many times? Will it be messy?
Okiki's hands and legs were visibly trembling. And outside in
the hallway another student was sobbing.
</p>
<p> Assistant principal Jacqueline Greenhill happened by and
found the crying girl. "You can tell when a student is really
upset," she says. The girl led Greenhill to another student, who
sent her to another who finally revealed the plot: two girls
were planning to kill teacher Jan Kirk, 46, at the end of class
that morning. Something about being embarrassed or insulted by
Kirk the day before. Other students, maybe a dozen or so,
wagered $200 in lunch money that the two wouldn't do it. But
only fools bet against peer pressure. And the bell was about to
ring.
</p>
<p> When Greenhill entered the classroom, a few students
whispered, "Get her now! Get her now!" while others said, "You
better not." The assistant principal intervened and ordered the
two conspirators to her office, where she confiscated the knife
and called the police. Last Friday, Okiki and Marlena were
charged with conspiracy to commit aggravated murder. Now
parents, teachers and the 700 students at Irving Middle School
in Lorain, Ohio, a racially mixed, economically strained town
of 70,000, are looking for explanations. They are talking about
the growing gang violence, the drug syndicates from New York
City and Detroit that use Lorain as a drop point, the
11-year-old boy who held up a minimart at gunpoint last
September and turned out to have had 46 previous encounters with
the police. The townspeople, especially the young, "don't
believe there's a future," says school superintendent Thomas
Bollin. "At least they don't act like they believe there's a
future."
</p>
<p> Every time another knife or gun is drawn in one of the
nation's classrooms, parents search for some reason why it was
an unusual case, why it couldn't happen in their community. But
the exception to the rule has become exceptionally common. The
National Education Association estimates that every day 100,000
students carry a gun to class; another study reports that 13%
of all incidents involving guns in the schools occur in
elementary and preschools. This month the Los Angeles school
district will initiate spot checks with portable metal detectors
in many of its schools.
</p>
<p> Every school day, 6,250 teachers are threatened with
injury and 260 are actually assaulted. Just before Christmas a
fifth-grade boy arrived at his school in Chicago one morning
toting a concoction of household cleaners, including bleach, and
poured it into his teacher's coffee. The teacher did not drink
the brew, and the boy's classmates turned him in. Last week an
eighth-grader in Washington shot a school guard in the stomach
after he broke up a fight between rival gangs.
</p>
<p> Okiki did not seem like the type to make trouble. Her
friends describe her as a quiet girl who lived alone with her
mother. But she roared on the day before the knife incident,
when Kirk yelled at her for not paying attention. When Okiki
left the classroom, she complained about how the teacher "got
in my face" and warned, "I'm going to kill her." Other students
apparently teased her, and then began betting on the life of
their English teacher.
</p>
<p> That night, Okiki told police, she got "angrier and
angrier." She had told friends that "cutting somebody is no big
deal" and that she stabbed her father once. A few hours before
dawn the girl crept into the kitchen and selected a knife,
which she tucked into her book bag.
</p>
<p> Sergeant Russ Cambarare of the Lorain police department
was shocked by the girls' matter-of-fact confessions. "We
asked, `Do you think it's right to take her life because she
hollered at you?' Okiki calmly said, `Yeah.' " The police doubt
they will ever discover exactly how many students actually
placed bets on the murder plot. But there is something else that
troubles Cambarare even more: his first glimpse of the girls
when they were brought into the police department. "They were
giggling."
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>