Unfortunately, my child is a survivor of a school shooting. She was safe, but several of her classmates died, and her high school graduation was largely a memorial service. A few things my kids have taught me about a childhood trauma they should not have had to face.
- The media attention (appropriate, this is news) was really difficult. A swarm of seasoned reporters were camped out looking for soundbites and interviews for days and days after the shooting. My teens felt that their grief and horror was being exploited for entertainment. Anyone reporting should tread softly the line between reporting and sensationalizing.
- The kids needed time to grieve together. Their school was closed for weeks after the shooting and they spent a lot of time in one kid's basement with no parents around to process their grief in their own way, communally. They didn't really want to be in the school, but they did want to be with each other and there aren't a lot of 'third spaces' for kids these days (esp with reporters lurking around). Give them space, check on them occasionally, send lots of snacks down.
- Adults lost a lot of credibility. Like, rightfully so. After failing them so spectacularly, it was really difficult for my kids to trust in adults ability to do anything right, and they do not accept any platitudes. Parents, teachers, administrators, politicians and police are not trusted elders, we're just people trying to keep them ignorant of dangers we won't protect them from. The hierarchy of authority that underpinned the child-parent dynamic was irreparably damaged.
I don't know if any of this is helpful to anyone, but when people get to talking about the latest tragedy, I always want to center the experiences of the kids whose lives are changed forever, not the noisy people making noise about What Needs To Be Done.
Oh my goodness I'm so sorry. And it is immensely helpful and necessary-- it's notable, we have a generation of thousands of survivors, but save for those we know from their activism, we rarely look to them for lessons and guidance. I wish your kids never had to discover these lessons, and that you never had to learn from them.
Weighing in from Madison... yesterday was a GD surreal day. The initial panic that there'd been a shooting, desperately checking around online to make sure my son's school was safe, checking in with friends and other parents... finding out a friend lives next to the shooter's house and her life was upended due to the search, hearing from friends on that side of town whose kids are way more upset than my own...
But there was also grace and community. We attended a Mutual Aid dinner and met a bunch of great people, some of whom know other great people in our lives and further filled in a network of community we didn't know we had.
I can only imagine what it must have been like. So much emotional whiplash, I'm sure, but I love how you ended your day. Absolutely perfect. Sending love to that whole town.
We have made a set of choices about what we value as a society, and nobody would agree that those choices have made us happier or healthier or safer, but the problem with unwinding a thread is that it feels so impossible to wind it up again.
When I teach the safety drills to my third graders every fall, I say that the lockdown hide in the dark one is in case something dangerous is in the building, like a BEAR. Because I cannot say person with gun. But they know. When we practice, the way they mention the bear-you can almost see them wink.
Garrett, I’m glad you and your son are ok. Thank you for helping us keep our broken hearts open.
One of the most interesting discussions in our house was my son's decision to not use the phrase "code red" with his sister, because he's sure she knows exactly what that entails, in its entirety, even if like in your classroom the teachers don't talk about the gun.
I'm so glad your son is alright. I know that you are much older now than you were last week.
When lock-down drills came to my school after the Newtown shooting, I remember how disturbed I was that my high school students did not really question the need for them. It was upsetting to think they believed it was all we could offer.
I was pretty sure I knew which billionaire you were talking about, but I clicked ever so briefly on the YouTube link (I hope that doesn't count as a view!) to confirm. And... yeah, The Free Press. The organization about which Substack sent out an email this morning, crowing about how The Free Press is the apotheosis of this platform, with its "commitment to pursuing high-integrity journalism."
"A recent funding round valued the company, which now has 50 employees, at $100 million," the piece continued. Proving just how lucrative it is to spout "woke is bad!" "cancel culture!!" talking points, while a heartbreakingly beautiful piece like this would have no room in their walled garden.
And again, I feel so conflicted—I still subscribe to four or five Substack creators through the platform, because I realize subscription dollars are the only thing keeping their work afloat, but I would no doubt subscribe to more were it not for my fundamental distaste for its Silicon Valley tech bro ethos.
All of which is to say... I am grateful you have provided an alternative method for us to support YOUR work, Garrett, and I have a note on my calendar to donate to Barnraisers later this week. I hope anyone else who feels conflicted about supporting Substack's business will join me in doing so.
100% with you there, Sue. Back when this piece was about the billionaire solely, I had a whole element in there about how he clearly thinks he's more important than the rest of us, and if what he's judging that based on is that he's funded multiple platforms on which we're reliant (including but not limited to this one), then I guess he's right, but on a deeper level, I know he's wrong because he will never know community.
As for folks conflicted about Substack and supporting me, if you ever need a different means of doing so I can make it easy for you-- just toss me an email.
My sixth graders and I were having a similar conversation at the dinner table last night.
We talked about how we show up for each other in our family and community, how in times that are decidedly weird, our focus has to become clearer, closer to home. That our friends and classmates who are vulnerable are the ones we need to look out for. One of the kids wanted a specific example and it was hard for me to give one in that moment so said, “You’ll know it when you see it. You’re both so smart about this stuff.“
Earlier I’d clicked the radio off after the reporter began speaking about Wisconsin, the luxury of turning the dial feels like a hardening of my heart.
The conversation goes like this.
“What happened? Did something bad happen, mom?“
“A shooting.“
“Where?”
“________.”
I was trying to protect them, but they already know, they already know.
My husband is a high school teacher. There was a day while he was at work that my phone rang and it was him. When I answered, there was a moment of faint, muffled noise, and the call went dead. I figured he called me by accident. I called back to make sure. No answer. I called back again. No answer. I texted. A few minutes went by. No response. After about 10 minutes, I got online and started searching to see if I could find a police scanner or anything on social media or breaking news about the high school. About 30 minutes went by of slowly mounting panic until he called back to tell me he was fine.
Like I suspected, he accidentally called me and then got distracted and hadn't seen that I was trying to get in touch. I don't usually worry about him at school, but my god, did that day give me some time to think "what if today is the day that he doesn't come home?"
Thank you for sharing this. I'm so sorry your son had to go through that. I'm so sorry for all the kids. <3
God my heart reading this, Garrett. Living into your fear from here. Into the fear of the dad who is not okay. Into the bottled up hurt that's no longer containable, spilling out in all directions. Into the plea for the village. Into the plea to take care of each other. Here to build it with you, with all of us. I'm so sorry you and so many others have had to live through that fear, and god am I glad your kiddo is okay.
Thank you for being one of the village builders I admire the most, Sara, and so sorry that yesterday the news that comes for every place came for your hometown.
I’m so sorry for you and your son and I’m sorry for every caregiver who isn’t able to hug their child tonight. Thanks for your words. Hearing/seeing other people caring so deeply gives me hope for the world.
I bring my children to school in the morning. They are in kindergarten. Every morning I watch them walk away from me, their little bodies hidden by the bulk of their winter parkas and backpacks full of snow gear. And every morning I think, "my god, this could be my last view of them." I also ask myself, with dreadful irony, "what if one morning I don't remember to watch them with my full attention, what if I take it for granted that today will be fine and safe and the day I don't commit them to my memory will be the day I'll never see them again."
I'm not saying this to be dramatic or to inflame people. I share because I know I cannot be the only parent who experiences some form of this and I feel anguish that I don't foresee any functional changes that will cause me to worry less when my five year olds are in high school or even college.
I do my best to not show them my fear, not to hide it from them, but because I want to demonstrate what it looks like to not be beholden to fear things one does not have control over. And I grapple with the time that my children WILL understand the specific fear our society imposes on them through code red practice drills, etc.
My children are too young to understand these issues with the nuance of a sixth grader but they already feel the specter of fear, manifested in "having scary thoughts" and "feeling scared" of nothing in particular. I dig deep not to jump to the reactive desire to quell their fears easily by saying "there's nothing to be scared of." To say such a thing, especially in these times, is disingenuous. To insist on that would be a lie.
I think about how I need to teach my children "survival skills" like being vigilant and trusting their intuition, being "extra" polite and deferential to agents of law enforcement. I think about how I will explain why their world is the way it is without being trite or reductive. And I think about how I and other parents shouldn't be needing to think about these things because such problems shouldn't exist—not because we're entitled, but because there is a known path away from violence that some people in our country purposely choose NOT to take.
This morning after I dropped my 1st grader off at school, I remembered that he'd asked to play the crossword game on my phone after breakfast and I'd forgotten. And then I thought: what if that is the regret I have for the rest of my life? That I promised him we could play the crossword game but I forgot.
Last week he told me that "we were only outside for 7 minutes at second recess and then Ms. Mickens told us to come inside for safety reasons". We hadn't gotten information from the school, so I asked very careful questions and then emailed the teacher. There had been a shooting in the neighborhood (where we live and I work) and they brought the kids inside just to be safe.
I'm not liking your comment because I "like" what you said. The topic at hand is heartbreaking and horrifying. Just wanted you to know I see you, I feel the same. I don't know you but I don't want to give you platitudes because I don't accept them from others.
Before I had children, I was afraid of everything, paralyzed with fear, metaphorically. I was afraid of making decisions, afraid they would be wrong, then realized I couldn't live THAT way. I decided not to be lead by fear. Nelson Mandela said "May your choices reflect your hopes not your fears." I try to live with hope for my children's sake, because they deserve not to have their parent impose crushing fear on them before they can comprehend what to be fearful of, which is different than being wary or alert to dangers.
I'm sending my children to public school because I believe it's the best thing for them right now. I have issues with the public school system as it is but I see much more profound problems with the intent of some people to dismantle the public school system. If I think things have changed for my children to the point that it's not beneficial for them to be there, I will take them out.
I think we just have to lead with hope, stay vigilant, and not be afraid to be what I call an angry bear parent to stand up for our children's rights and safety. ❤️
Like Elizabeth and Carly, I know exactly what you're talking about (unfortunately). I have had multiple days where I say my "I love you" and then pause, give myself mental notes (you know, like "that was way too tepid an 'I love you' for a potential last 'I love you'") and then shout it again.
I had to come back to this after I had done my stuff for the day.
My oldest son’s second day of Jr High, less than a week before his birthday, a 7th grade peer brought a gun to school in his backpack. He pulled the gun out, pointed it right at the teacher’s head and pulled the trigger. The only thing that saved it from becoming another school tragedy was that the 12 year old had forgotten to take the safety off, and the teacher, who was going to retire after that year, was able to get the gun from him.
I had moved out of the district a couple of years prior to that, but decided to open enroll my kids to keep them in that district for many reasons, but one of the reasons was because it was a smaller more affluent town and I felt they were safer there.
It took everything in me to not pull my kids and homeschool them that day.
That teacher didn’t retire. She has my youngest in class this year - so, she has taught all four of my children. I am astounded at her bravery. I had just gotten my substitute teaching license when the incident happened, and it expired last year - I never used it.
I think about that incident a lot. And how grateful I am that the kid forgot to take the safety off.
Oh my God Kristin I had no idea. I had a sense when I wrote this was that one thing I'd soon find out was how many parents had a story-- either about the worst happening or the worst almost happening. But still, I so wish that hunch had been wrong.
In 1988, before some of you were even born, our neighborhood school had a shooting. One second grader killed, 6 students and an adult wounded. A tv movie in 1993, Murder of Innocence, starring Valerie Bertinelli, was made about the tragedy. It’s one of the reasons schools began to lock doors and buzz into the office for admittance.
For survivors ( who are in their 40’s now) , there is always “the 10th anniversary”, “20th anniversary “ etc by local media.
After that day I gave to Brady for 9 straight years and received a certificate. Then came Columbine and I gave to Everytown. in 2000 was the Million Mom March in DC and other cities. I joined the one in Chicago along with others from my neighborhood. Watched in horror in 2004 when assault weapons ban was not renewed. Cried ugly tears with others in my neighborhood 8 years later with Sandy Hook. Thought something would finally be done, but no. Now my grandchildren have shooter drills. Everyone thinks “it can’t happen here” until it does. I am exhausted.
Garrett, I'm so sorry that your family and so many others have had to endure the fear and the heartbreak. It took me a few days to read this (I'm a teacher, it was the last week of school), and I'm glad that I read it at a time when I could fully take it in. I'm glad that your son is okay.
My kids know that they are ONLY allowed to open the door if it's for someone that they know, who is CURRENTLY in our ACTUAL class. Even if it's the principal, they come get me, and I handle it. My heartbeat speeds up every time I hear an unexpected knock and drops into my stomach every time a kid comes back and says, "Miss, somebody's at the door."
My kids are my kids, but they're not my children; my heart is with you in talking about this at home - I have official language and guidance on my side (whether I agree with it all the time or not). I teach seventh grade (taught sixth last year, and the difference between those two grades is SIGNIFICANT, and last year was harder for these types of conversations), and I walk the line between honesty and protection constantly. My line is often "I cannot guarantee that I can keep you safe, but I can guarantee I'll do everything that I can do to so."
Unfortunately, my child is a survivor of a school shooting. She was safe, but several of her classmates died, and her high school graduation was largely a memorial service. A few things my kids have taught me about a childhood trauma they should not have had to face.
- The media attention (appropriate, this is news) was really difficult. A swarm of seasoned reporters were camped out looking for soundbites and interviews for days and days after the shooting. My teens felt that their grief and horror was being exploited for entertainment. Anyone reporting should tread softly the line between reporting and sensationalizing.
- The kids needed time to grieve together. Their school was closed for weeks after the shooting and they spent a lot of time in one kid's basement with no parents around to process their grief in their own way, communally. They didn't really want to be in the school, but they did want to be with each other and there aren't a lot of 'third spaces' for kids these days (esp with reporters lurking around). Give them space, check on them occasionally, send lots of snacks down.
- Adults lost a lot of credibility. Like, rightfully so. After failing them so spectacularly, it was really difficult for my kids to trust in adults ability to do anything right, and they do not accept any platitudes. Parents, teachers, administrators, politicians and police are not trusted elders, we're just people trying to keep them ignorant of dangers we won't protect them from. The hierarchy of authority that underpinned the child-parent dynamic was irreparably damaged.
I don't know if any of this is helpful to anyone, but when people get to talking about the latest tragedy, I always want to center the experiences of the kids whose lives are changed forever, not the noisy people making noise about What Needs To Be Done.
Oh my goodness I'm so sorry. And it is immensely helpful and necessary-- it's notable, we have a generation of thousands of survivors, but save for those we know from their activism, we rarely look to them for lessons and guidance. I wish your kids never had to discover these lessons, and that you never had to learn from them.
Weighing in from Madison... yesterday was a GD surreal day. The initial panic that there'd been a shooting, desperately checking around online to make sure my son's school was safe, checking in with friends and other parents... finding out a friend lives next to the shooter's house and her life was upended due to the search, hearing from friends on that side of town whose kids are way more upset than my own...
But there was also grace and community. We attended a Mutual Aid dinner and met a bunch of great people, some of whom know other great people in our lives and further filled in a network of community we didn't know we had.
Thank you for your words once again, Garrett.
I can only imagine what it must have been like. So much emotional whiplash, I'm sure, but I love how you ended your day. Absolutely perfect. Sending love to that whole town.
This isn't a particularly eloquent or earth-shattering reflection, but I just cannot believe we have decided this is an acceptable way to live.
We have made a set of choices about what we value as a society, and nobody would agree that those choices have made us happier or healthier or safer, but the problem with unwinding a thread is that it feels so impossible to wind it up again.
When I teach the safety drills to my third graders every fall, I say that the lockdown hide in the dark one is in case something dangerous is in the building, like a BEAR. Because I cannot say person with gun. But they know. When we practice, the way they mention the bear-you can almost see them wink.
Garrett, I’m glad you and your son are ok. Thank you for helping us keep our broken hearts open.
One of the most interesting discussions in our house was my son's decision to not use the phrase "code red" with his sister, because he's sure she knows exactly what that entails, in its entirety, even if like in your classroom the teachers don't talk about the gun.
I'm so glad your son is alright. I know that you are much older now than you were last week.
When lock-down drills came to my school after the Newtown shooting, I remember how disturbed I was that my high school students did not really question the need for them. It was upsetting to think they believed it was all we could offer.
Just a part of a generation's life!
I was pretty sure I knew which billionaire you were talking about, but I clicked ever so briefly on the YouTube link (I hope that doesn't count as a view!) to confirm. And... yeah, The Free Press. The organization about which Substack sent out an email this morning, crowing about how The Free Press is the apotheosis of this platform, with its "commitment to pursuing high-integrity journalism."
"A recent funding round valued the company, which now has 50 employees, at $100 million," the piece continued. Proving just how lucrative it is to spout "woke is bad!" "cancel culture!!" talking points, while a heartbreakingly beautiful piece like this would have no room in their walled garden.
And again, I feel so conflicted—I still subscribe to four or five Substack creators through the platform, because I realize subscription dollars are the only thing keeping their work afloat, but I would no doubt subscribe to more were it not for my fundamental distaste for its Silicon Valley tech bro ethos.
All of which is to say... I am grateful you have provided an alternative method for us to support YOUR work, Garrett, and I have a note on my calendar to donate to Barnraisers later this week. I hope anyone else who feels conflicted about supporting Substack's business will join me in doing so.
100% with you there, Sue. Back when this piece was about the billionaire solely, I had a whole element in there about how he clearly thinks he's more important than the rest of us, and if what he's judging that based on is that he's funded multiple platforms on which we're reliant (including but not limited to this one), then I guess he's right, but on a deeper level, I know he's wrong because he will never know community.
As for folks conflicted about Substack and supporting me, if you ever need a different means of doing so I can make it easy for you-- just toss me an email.
My sixth graders and I were having a similar conversation at the dinner table last night.
We talked about how we show up for each other in our family and community, how in times that are decidedly weird, our focus has to become clearer, closer to home. That our friends and classmates who are vulnerable are the ones we need to look out for. One of the kids wanted a specific example and it was hard for me to give one in that moment so said, “You’ll know it when you see it. You’re both so smart about this stuff.“
Earlier I’d clicked the radio off after the reporter began speaking about Wisconsin, the luxury of turning the dial feels like a hardening of my heart.
The conversation goes like this.
“What happened? Did something bad happen, mom?“
“A shooting.“
“Where?”
“________.”
I was trying to protect them, but they already know, they already know.
Sending you all lots of love and music today.
They already know! Both the part about how the world is broken and the part about what it looks like to piece it together!
"That our friends and classmates who are vulnerable are the ones we need to look out for. One of the kids wanted a specific example..."
Geez you must be proud of those kids. What a beautiful sense of enquiry.
My husband is a high school teacher. There was a day while he was at work that my phone rang and it was him. When I answered, there was a moment of faint, muffled noise, and the call went dead. I figured he called me by accident. I called back to make sure. No answer. I called back again. No answer. I texted. A few minutes went by. No response. After about 10 minutes, I got online and started searching to see if I could find a police scanner or anything on social media or breaking news about the high school. About 30 minutes went by of slowly mounting panic until he called back to tell me he was fine.
Like I suspected, he accidentally called me and then got distracted and hadn't seen that I was trying to get in touch. I don't usually worry about him at school, but my god, did that day give me some time to think "what if today is the day that he doesn't come home?"
Thank you for sharing this. I'm so sorry your son had to go through that. I'm so sorry for all the kids. <3
oh my god I can only imagine-- that 30 minutes must have felt like 30 days
God my heart reading this, Garrett. Living into your fear from here. Into the fear of the dad who is not okay. Into the bottled up hurt that's no longer containable, spilling out in all directions. Into the plea for the village. Into the plea to take care of each other. Here to build it with you, with all of us. I'm so sorry you and so many others have had to live through that fear, and god am I glad your kiddo is okay.
Thank you for being one of the village builders I admire the most, Sara, and so sorry that yesterday the news that comes for every place came for your hometown.
I’m so sorry for you and your son and I’m sorry for every caregiver who isn’t able to hug their child tonight. Thanks for your words. Hearing/seeing other people caring so deeply gives me hope for the world.
There is so much care, and so many caregivers!
I bring my children to school in the morning. They are in kindergarten. Every morning I watch them walk away from me, their little bodies hidden by the bulk of their winter parkas and backpacks full of snow gear. And every morning I think, "my god, this could be my last view of them." I also ask myself, with dreadful irony, "what if one morning I don't remember to watch them with my full attention, what if I take it for granted that today will be fine and safe and the day I don't commit them to my memory will be the day I'll never see them again."
I'm not saying this to be dramatic or to inflame people. I share because I know I cannot be the only parent who experiences some form of this and I feel anguish that I don't foresee any functional changes that will cause me to worry less when my five year olds are in high school or even college.
I do my best to not show them my fear, not to hide it from them, but because I want to demonstrate what it looks like to not be beholden to fear things one does not have control over. And I grapple with the time that my children WILL understand the specific fear our society imposes on them through code red practice drills, etc.
My children are too young to understand these issues with the nuance of a sixth grader but they already feel the specter of fear, manifested in "having scary thoughts" and "feeling scared" of nothing in particular. I dig deep not to jump to the reactive desire to quell their fears easily by saying "there's nothing to be scared of." To say such a thing, especially in these times, is disingenuous. To insist on that would be a lie.
I think about how I need to teach my children "survival skills" like being vigilant and trusting their intuition, being "extra" polite and deferential to agents of law enforcement. I think about how I will explain why their world is the way it is without being trite or reductive. And I think about how I and other parents shouldn't be needing to think about these things because such problems shouldn't exist—not because we're entitled, but because there is a known path away from violence that some people in our country purposely choose NOT to take.
This morning after I dropped my 1st grader off at school, I remembered that he'd asked to play the crossword game on my phone after breakfast and I'd forgotten. And then I thought: what if that is the regret I have for the rest of my life? That I promised him we could play the crossword game but I forgot.
Last week he told me that "we were only outside for 7 minutes at second recess and then Ms. Mickens told us to come inside for safety reasons". We hadn't gotten information from the school, so I asked very careful questions and then emailed the teacher. There had been a shooting in the neighborhood (where we live and I work) and they brought the kids inside just to be safe.
I don't know how to live like this.
I'm not liking your comment because I "like" what you said. The topic at hand is heartbreaking and horrifying. Just wanted you to know I see you, I feel the same. I don't know you but I don't want to give you platitudes because I don't accept them from others.
Before I had children, I was afraid of everything, paralyzed with fear, metaphorically. I was afraid of making decisions, afraid they would be wrong, then realized I couldn't live THAT way. I decided not to be lead by fear. Nelson Mandela said "May your choices reflect your hopes not your fears." I try to live with hope for my children's sake, because they deserve not to have their parent impose crushing fear on them before they can comprehend what to be fearful of, which is different than being wary or alert to dangers.
I'm sending my children to public school because I believe it's the best thing for them right now. I have issues with the public school system as it is but I see much more profound problems with the intent of some people to dismantle the public school system. If I think things have changed for my children to the point that it's not beneficial for them to be there, I will take them out.
I think we just have to lead with hope, stay vigilant, and not be afraid to be what I call an angry bear parent to stand up for our children's rights and safety. ❤️
Like Elizabeth and Carly, I know exactly what you're talking about (unfortunately). I have had multiple days where I say my "I love you" and then pause, give myself mental notes (you know, like "that was way too tepid an 'I love you' for a potential last 'I love you'") and then shout it again.
I intend to have “The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.” Made into a needlepoint sampler.
Would purchase!
I had to come back to this after I had done my stuff for the day.
My oldest son’s second day of Jr High, less than a week before his birthday, a 7th grade peer brought a gun to school in his backpack. He pulled the gun out, pointed it right at the teacher’s head and pulled the trigger. The only thing that saved it from becoming another school tragedy was that the 12 year old had forgotten to take the safety off, and the teacher, who was going to retire after that year, was able to get the gun from him.
I had moved out of the district a couple of years prior to that, but decided to open enroll my kids to keep them in that district for many reasons, but one of the reasons was because it was a smaller more affluent town and I felt they were safer there.
It took everything in me to not pull my kids and homeschool them that day.
That teacher didn’t retire. She has my youngest in class this year - so, she has taught all four of my children. I am astounded at her bravery. I had just gotten my substitute teaching license when the incident happened, and it expired last year - I never used it.
I think about that incident a lot. And how grateful I am that the kid forgot to take the safety off.
Oh my God Kristin I had no idea. I had a sense when I wrote this was that one thing I'd soon find out was how many parents had a story-- either about the worst happening or the worst almost happening. But still, I so wish that hunch had been wrong.
I really appreciated this. I upgraded to a paid subscription after reading it. Thank you.
That's very kind of you; I appreciate it so much.
In 1988, before some of you were even born, our neighborhood school had a shooting. One second grader killed, 6 students and an adult wounded. A tv movie in 1993, Murder of Innocence, starring Valerie Bertinelli, was made about the tragedy. It’s one of the reasons schools began to lock doors and buzz into the office for admittance.
For survivors ( who are in their 40’s now) , there is always “the 10th anniversary”, “20th anniversary “ etc by local media.
After that day I gave to Brady for 9 straight years and received a certificate. Then came Columbine and I gave to Everytown. in 2000 was the Million Mom March in DC and other cities. I joined the one in Chicago along with others from my neighborhood. Watched in horror in 2004 when assault weapons ban was not renewed. Cried ugly tears with others in my neighborhood 8 years later with Sandy Hook. Thought something would finally be done, but no. Now my grandchildren have shooter drills. Everyone thinks “it can’t happen here” until it does. I am exhausted.
Garrett, I'm so sorry that your family and so many others have had to endure the fear and the heartbreak. It took me a few days to read this (I'm a teacher, it was the last week of school), and I'm glad that I read it at a time when I could fully take it in. I'm glad that your son is okay.
My kids know that they are ONLY allowed to open the door if it's for someone that they know, who is CURRENTLY in our ACTUAL class. Even if it's the principal, they come get me, and I handle it. My heartbeat speeds up every time I hear an unexpected knock and drops into my stomach every time a kid comes back and says, "Miss, somebody's at the door."
My kids are my kids, but they're not my children; my heart is with you in talking about this at home - I have official language and guidance on my side (whether I agree with it all the time or not). I teach seventh grade (taught sixth last year, and the difference between those two grades is SIGNIFICANT, and last year was harder for these types of conversations), and I walk the line between honesty and protection constantly. My line is often "I cannot guarantee that I can keep you safe, but I can guarantee I'll do everything that I can do to so."