As a fire at a Chevron oil refinery sent roils of black smoke in to the air around Richmond, Ca., PNS editor Katherine Kim was running a writing workshop with students at Richmond High School. She found that these teenagers, while disturbed, ultimately viewed fire's havoc as just another part of their everyday lives. Kim is an editor of YO! (Youth Outlook), a magazine by and about young people published by Pacific News Service.

"I think the sky is intoxicated. I think Chevron is on fire and people are dead."

-Martin Segura, 14

The PA system rang out in the middle of the English class at Richmond High. It was 2:30 pm on Thursday afternoon and YO! Youth Outlook was holding a writing workshop outreach. "There has been a fire at the Chevron refinery and we have been told to use the school as a shelter," the voice over the loudspeaker said. "Seal all windows and doors and remain in the classroom until further notice...." The class immediately fell apart, kids shouting and standing up.

We had started the class writing about two incidents that happened Wednesday at the school, allegedly between Asian and Latino gangs. One kid got clocked by the clip of a gun, and another was beaten in the head with a rubber baseball bat. The writing assignment was to define violence and why they consider their school to be "ghetto."

The class was divided as to whether Richmond High was violent or not. "It ain't violent," one kid yelled. "Someone's gotta die before it can be called violent." The other half was pointing out the proliferation of cops in the halls and schoolyard that day, shiny badges welcoming the students in through the heavy bars in the hallways.

"I don't really think this school is violent, I think some of the kids here are violent," wrote 14 year-old Marisol Delgado. "At times it is kinda scary to come to a school where there are violent people, but it's part of my everyday life."

And then the refinery fire kept us trapped in the classroom. Kids were getting antsy and wanted to be excused. One kid was worried that his dog, "my best friend," would get sick from the fumes.

We asked the kids to write about what they thought was going on outside. Stuck in the home ec room, we were surrounded by makeshift kitchenettes and washing machines and dryers. There were no windows in the room, and there was only one door that led out to another windowless hallway. The bright fluorescent light glowed off the bright yellow walls.

"I think there is a fire outside and the air is killing all the people," wrote Vittaya Vinideth. "The sky is turning red and people are going crazy because of the air."

Sixteen-year-old Leticia Camacho wrote, "It's not too good to look up and not know what's going on outside. You have to keep all your windows closed. You have to turn on your tv or radio to find out if you can go outside. The air is probably dark. The sky is probably dark and foggy. If you get sick, it's not good. The smell will go inside your body. That's not good for your body."

Ismael Espinoza, 16, added, "When I'm stuck here because there is a big explosion outside, I feel scared. I feel like I'm going to live here. I think that we are going to stay here so long that we are going to starve and die. I feel scared that my family might die because of the chemicals. I think the sky is going to turn so black that we won't be able to tell if it's day or night. I think that all the birds flying in the sky are going to fall and die. I think all the fish are going to die. I feel like the smoke is going to come inside the school and we will all turn into mutants."

Several of the kids were making jokes about how they had three arms and other such deformities. Oil refinery fires and chemical spills seem to be a natural occurrence in Richmond, home of 36 major industrial accidents since 1989 - one every hundred days. According to the Asian Pacific Environmental Network, there have been "over 1700 incidents at ten major facilities in Contra Costa County between 1989 and 1995 which have killed workers, injured thousands of people, closed schools and freeways and required evacuation of workers and residents of surrounding communities." The kids were surprised to learn that such "accidents" don't happen in every community.

"That's racism," a kid named Pip yelled, when he realized that these disasters happen more predominantly in communities of color.

At 3:14, the PA system kicked in again, telling the students they could stay or go. The kids seemed relieved.

As we walked outside the black mushroom-shaped cloud loomed ominously. Students swarmed around the gates of the school, waiting for the bus. The student dean herded the kids out, waving his arms and telling them to hurry up, that "we only got ten minutes before it hits us."

Suddenly a fire engine siren wailed and an ambulance weaved through the throngs of students crossing the street. A student had just gotten hit by a car, whose driver was presumably rubbernecking at the Chevron fire. A crowd of kids formed and the dean yelled at them to go home. No one listened.

These kids don't consider clubbing someone with a baseball bat violence. They think there are bars in every school. They think that chemical spills and oil refinery fires happen in every town.

As Richmond High junior Linda Saelee wrote in a poem called "Life in Richmond:

"Outside my sister hop-scotches,
skipping around plastic cups
and Burger King wrappers.
Another pedaling her bike
flip flops on
my mother's peach tree, dangerous smoke
both in the distance...
Another day here in Richmond passes by."