speaking through silence (a newspaper article by yours truly)

I remember as a freshman seeing a senior girl who I admired greatly sitting limp with a blank expression on her face in the front lobby of the school. She was dressed in all white with her face painted to match and was completely silent. She seemed as though she was dead. Micayla and I went up to the senior and attempted greeting her, only to discover her silence was intentional and a response would not be met. I remember an eerie feeling coming over me as I thought to myself, why is Andi pretending to be dead?
Later in the day, walking through the halls, it seemed as if every corner I turned there was another upperclassmen dressed in all white resembling a dead person. After much internal questioning, I was finally informed that the demonstration was intended to prevent students from drinking and driving after prom. The people who dressed in all white were representing students killed in drinking and driving related car accidents.
The memory of the event stuck with me over the years, even four years later when it came time for my senior prom. The image of Andi sitting still, silent and in all white, essentially dead, had not cleared from my mind. I recounted with Micayla how effective their demonstration was, and we talked about how horrible it would be if one of our friends died in a drinking and driving related car accident. We knew that we had to do whatever we could to prevent such a fatality.
The Wednesday morning before the 2005 Prom students trickled into school and glanced apprehensively at me. Some stopped to take a closer look at what was written on the sign across my chest, some laughed or made fun of me unsure what to do with such a serious matter, and some just kept on walking. The pattern remained the same throughout the day.
See this time I was dressed in all white with my face painted to match. This time I sat silent the entire day when students came up to me attempting to say hello or asking if I was allowed to talk to them. And this time they eventually realized that I was not going to respond; that I was demonstrating for a very worthy cause.
As I sat silent the entire day I found myself chanting in my head the words that were written across my chest… “Every 30 minutes a student dies due to drinking and driving”. Chuck Palahniuk once wrote that “silence is the hardest blessing you give up,” and I would have to agree. As I lied limp about the school, not speaking to a soul but my own, part of me really did feel as if I were dead. But with death comes glory, or at least more publicity, and if nothing else, people certainly were talking.
The statement spread like a forest fire and soon every other word I heard in the hallway was “dead” or “ghosts”. The information sheets in my hand about the detriments of drinking and driving disappeared quickly and I knew that no matter how many people kicked me, or how many people stood in front of my face trying to get me to laugh, or how many teachers were not in support of a clearly imperative cause… the message was there, and those who had open minds, were not only influenced, but challenged to really reevaluate their actions and decisions.
At the end of the day there were 46 dead bodies strewed across the lobby floor, myself included, all with varying signs, varying hypothetical stories, and varying effects on bystanders. 2:10 arrived and the lobby filled with students anxious for the weekend and our much anticipated Prom. Somehow though, the usual end of the day hype wasn’t as energetic as people took a calm moment to look around at us, at their peers who were no longer with them because they chose to face the consequences of drinking and driving. Thankfully these hypothetical deaths did not occur and we were blessed and fortunate to have every student return safely to school the next week.
I would like to extend my personal gratitude to Atholton students, teachers, and administrators on behalf of everyone involved in the anti-drinking and driving demonstration for listening to the words we chose to speak through our silence. Thank you.