I attend Olive Grove Charter School, but San Marcos High School’s staff had given me permission to join their college interview process.

Rice University was my target, and I expected a brief, informative session. So when I arrived at San Marcos High’s oddly deserted campus at 10:15 a.m. Thursday, I didn’t have my cell phone or iPod — only a notebook and a paperback copy of a Chinese history novel.

I went straight to the office to sign in, only to find it locked. A moment later, an assistant principal saw me and vigorously hauled me inside, informing me that the school was under a lockdown. In the passageway was a group of other students. He sent me to join them — and wait.

For the first 30 minutes, I thought it was a drill — the staff showed no real agitation. Only when the very conspicuously armed police officers came down the corridor, looking grim, did I realize that it was real. I attended San Marcos for my sophomore year, and lockdown drills had been a regular affair. None had involved officers wielding yard-long guns.

As if the arrival of the officers had been a signal, everyone began talking about what they had heard. There had been a guy with a gun across the street. There had been three guys with guns. No, two had carried backpacks. They had arrested the person, and he was being questioned down the corridor. No, that was just a boy and a girl who wandered onto campus late. We would be released in 20 minutes. And so on.

I borrowed a cell phone to call my mother and to tell her what had happened. She already knew. She told me to keep out of everyone’s way, and reminded me that I had another college interview at 5 p.m. I teased her for getting me into the situation in the first place, and returned the phone.

An hour or so later, with no release in sight and our worries mounting for the other students who were trapped in classrooms with no water or toilets, the decision to move us to a hallway outside the staff room was welcome. It allowed us to gawk through the glass wall of the office.

The Santa Barbara Police Department had a sampling of vehicles parked on the sidewalk. Rumors began to fly — even in our group of 20, a rumor grew legs in no time. Was that the media spread out across the street and staring into the sunlight? Or parents? Or both?

That subject ran out fast, and we all settled into extreme, mind-numbing boredom. Although we were seated in the hall outside the room that apparently was pulling duty as a command center, we could only guess what was happening. All we knew was that students were being moved from classrooms to the gym, and we knew that only because we had seen a group of administrators leave with a heavily armed escort. I admired the professionalism of the escort — officers to the outside with their arms ready, administrators and staff members on the inside.

Administrators, teachers and parents may bemoan cell-phone use. After that day, I don’t. They were the only reason we had a clue what was going on. Messages were relayed from one person to another, and we learned our friends were safe and that the transfer to the gym was going at a decent pace. We also heard that teachers were requiring that cell phones be turned off. It was a situation in which cell-phone use was the only source of information, and the only line to the outside world available to students. We were glad that in the front office where we were that we weren’t required to power down our phones.

We also had access to restrooms, although I admired the ingenuity that had students using wastebaskets in the privacy of supply closets throughout the rest of the campus. A kind staff member gave us two decks of cards, although the entertainment derived from them, given our level of tension, was minimal.

Mostly we just sat around, repeating the same comments and speculations, and listening to the phone ring every few seconds as worried parents called in. I sympathized with the receptionist as I overheard torrents of abuse from the other end of the line, with parent after parent demanding an exception be made for his or her child’s release. I couldn’t help wonder why, given that none of us had a clue whether the threat could escalate into a Columbine-type scenario. I, for one, was willing to stay put and be bored until we had some amount of certainty.

Overall, I was impressed with the rapidity and completeness of the lockdown. Sure, the irony is great that, as a student who is basically home-schooled, I would end up in a lockdown the one morning I spend at my former school — but I did get to see a system geared toward a serious threat go into effect. Not fun, and tedious beyond belief, but I think if tedium is the worst I have to report, we are doing well. I had never seen so many police officers, but I appreciated their air of calm and certainty while doing a job that had been planned and rehearsed to excellent effect.

After the incident, my worst worry is the effect it will have on the school in the future. I have read various comments ranting against gangs, even though there is no concrete evidence that any kind of gang activity was involved. To be frank, such overreactions scare me far more than the gangs.

A “war on gangs” doesn’t just hurt the gang members, it damages the quality of our education. When we profile, sometimes we get what we ask for.

— Theora Tiffney is a senior at Olive Grove Charter School in Santa Barbara.