Are Our Children Safe at School?

March 29, 2023

Today we got the text.

The one every parents dreads.

We are on lockdown.

I don’t know what’s happening.

I love you.

In a heartbeat, I went from working productively on an email about the challenges facing teachers today (no lie), to shaking uncontrollably on my couch and fighting back tears as I scoured Facebook, searched the Internet, and willed my phone to ping with another text.

Meanwhile, my children were barricaded in classrooms, hiding under desks, cowering in the dark.

Or not.

(My son reported that his teacher locked the door and told them to keep working silently. An aid then opened to the door “just to check.” We’ll come back to that.)

They’re safe at school (at least today)

Luckily, it was a false alarm.

There was an active shooter “hoax” throughout Pennsylvania and Utah and dozens of schools went on lockdown after computer-generated calls warned of active shooter situations.

Our school locked down as a precaution when we got word that there was an active-shooter in a neighboring district. When I heard the sirens racing past my house for what seemed like ages, I got that feeling in my gut that something was truly wrong. For some reason, I remembered when my kids were in kindergarten. They went to Catholic school and had the best kindergarten teacher ever. Whenever they heard sirens she always had them stop and say a quick prayer.

It’s been a long time since we went to Catholic school and I am not religious. I don’t believe in the power of prayer. But when I heard those sirens, I did pause for a moment and sent my positive thoughts into the universe.

And then the texts started pouring in. And panic climbed into my throat.

Law enforcement responded quickly, circling helicopters and searching schools, before giving the all-clear and adding today’s calls to a growing-list of active shooter hoaxes. “It was just a prank,” they said.

But let me tell you, there was nothing funny about it. Not on the heels of Nashville. Not ever.

Kids don’t feel safe at school

Hoax or not, students, staff, and parents were traumatized by today’s events.

“We really thought this was it,” my daughter said.

“All I kept thinking is what should I do, especially since my teacher wasn’t doing anything,” my son said.

Teachers were sobbing on the PA and appeared visibly shaken. Younger children were left in tears. Older kids sent last minute good-bye messages to loved ones. Police stormed hallways with assault weapons.

We were all lucky today. It could have been so much worse. Our children came home unharmed. Law enforcement and the schools did their job.

But how are kids supposed to learn in this environment? How can teachers teach when they are worried about protecting kids from bullets? How can children focus when they fear for their lives?

So many kids aren’t safe at school

Just this morning I sat in my kitchen in the gray light of the early dawn, eyes gritty after another sleepless night. My bones were weary even though the day had not yet begun. I sipped my strong coffee, the first of many, and pecked out a quick text to my friend–my kids always make fun of me for texting with one finger. (What if they were no longer here to make fun of me? How would I go on?)

I knew she’d understand my fear that our children are no longer safe at school.

I’m so sick of this bullshit! I don’t even want to send my kids to school anymore.

I was, of course, referencing Monday’s school shooting, this time at Covenant School in Nashville, that left six people dead. At least in part. I was also referring to another less traumatic but still frightening story unfolding quietly in our own district.

Immediately my phone buzzed with her reply:

I know . . . I just can’t . . . This is unreal . . . They are not safe at school

I looked at her message and shook my head.

Living in the era of school shootings

Monday’s tragedy was just the latest in a string of school shootings. In fact, it was the thirteenth school shooting of 2023. So far this calendar year twenty-three people have been killed or injured in school shootings.

I feel certain that my impatience will be punished with the ultimate penalty and my heart beats furiously until I frantically tap out a quick “I’m sorry” and “I love you” and hope they get it before the day starts and cell phones are banished to their lockers.

And school shootings only make up a fraction of the mass casualty events in America. The Nashville shooting was the 129th mass shooting in the U.S. this year. This year!

There have been more mass casualties than there have been days in the year. Let that sink in for a second.

Although it remains horrific to turn on the news and see another senseless tragedy it is disingenuous to frame these stories as a surprise anymore.

But neither one of us was talking only about Nashville.

Safe at school?

I started to type a reply, but the rush of water through the pipes told me I had about ten minutes before my kids came downstairs. I needed to make lunches and fill water bottles and prepare myself for another chat about school safety and what to do if the unthinkable happens.

So I sent her a heart emoji and put down my phone.

This is what we’ve come to, trying to sum up all the fear and love and compassion and understanding and shock in my heart with a stupid emoji.

My kids are seventeen and fourteen (and twenty, but he no longer lives at home and so while I worry about him all the time, it’s a different type of anxiety) and like all kids in America they have grown up under the threat of school shootings.

Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook, Parkland, Uvalde, Santa Fe, Nashville . . . I could go on, but you get the picture. I haven’t done the math to determine how many children have died at school just during their school years. But I don’t need to. One child being gunned down at school is too many. And there have been way more than that.

Every single day as my kids walk out the door I wonder if they will be safe at school. Or if that will be the last time I see them. Each day I survey and make note of what they are wearing–just in case.

I try to be present in the morning. Ready with a smile and hug and an encouraging word. I make lunches not because I have to, but because I want to. (I don’t really want to, I hate making lunches. But I’d gladly make a thousand lunches than wish I had one more lunch to make.)

On the rare occasion that we part with angry words, I feel certain that my impatience will be punished with the ultimate penalty and my heart beats furiously until I frantically tap out a quick I’m sorry and I love you and hope they get it before the day starts and cell phones are banished to their lockers.

“Please let them see that message,” I hope in case something goes horribly wrong. And then I wait on pins and needles until I get a reply.

A constant state of fear

Ever since becoming a parent, it feels like most of my life is spent waiting on pins and needles. Danger lurks around every corner. And now that they are older I spend the majority of my time waiting for them to call or text, or, better yet, return home. Every time they’re out of my sight, I worry that something bad will happen.

Of course, this is a legitimate concern. The risk that my kids are not safe at school is, sadly, a real one in America in 2023. I know it. And they know it.

There’s just so much that can go wrong.

Car accidents, drugs, fentanyl, stalkers, shooters. Sexual predators.

Who’s keeping our kids safe at school?

Yesterday, we learned that one of my son’s teachers was having an affair with a student. Did you catch that? One of my fourteen-year-old son’s teachers was having an affair with a student.

You might find that shocking. You should find that shocking. All people should find that shocking. Teachers preying on students is abhorrent and illegal.

But for us, it’s becoming just another thing to worry about. And it pales in comparison to active shooters, right?

It’s almost hard to believe that this incident, one that didn’t directly affect my child, kept me up last night.

But how callous is that thought? It wasn’t my kid. No one died. The family isn’t pressing charges. So why should I worry about it.

I find that thought process disturbing. Disgusting, even. I know teachers have been having affairs with students forever. But that does’t make it right. And the fact that it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen does not lessen it’s egregiousness.

But when you live in the ever-present threat of violence it makes you hard. It makes you jaded. It makes you more willing to accept “minor” infractions simply because they “could have been worse.”

Ever since becoming a parent, it feels like most of my life is spent waiting on pins and needles. Danger is lurking around every corner. And now that they are older I spend the majority of my time waiting for them to call or text, or, better yet, return home.

But here’s the thing . . .This is the second time in four years we’ve been in this situation. The second time an adult entrusted with our children’s safety has abused that trust in the worst possible way.

My son was in this teacher’s classroom. As were dozens of other kids. So they are all impacted by her poor judgment.

If the past is any indication of the future, nothing will be done about it. Sure, she’ll lose her job and teaching license. But the incident will be swept under the rug. As a writer and a book coach it pains me to write that sentence, “will be swept under the rug.” It’s a sentence begging for the active voice. Only I don’t know who exactly did the sweeping and I don’t want to improperly cast blame.

The last time this happened my daughter was in seventh grade and she had the teacher. When the rumors started swirling, we left umpteen messages for the school asking questions, seeking clarification, requesting information, excusing her from his class–because he continued teaching for awhile.

No-one ever called us back.

Eventually, a general email went out to all families. “You have to trust us,” they said. “Your kids are safe at school.” They never directly addressed the issue.

Teachers keep kids safe at school

It’s hard to trust your children to other people. It’s unnatural.

As parents, we do everything in our power to keep our kids safe. But when they walk out our doors, we are powerless to protect them. So we must rely on others to keep our children safe at school.

But no-one loves our kiddos as much as we do.

This is not to say that other people don’t care for our kids. Or won’t try to keep them safe.

I know that this teacher is the exception and not the rule. The vast majority of teachers in our district and throughout the country are amazing, dedicated, trustworthy, responsible individuals who would do anything, including lay down their lives, to keep our children safe at school.

I know this in my heart. I am a former teacher. I have tons of teacher friends. I love and respect teachers. It breaks my heart that teaching is now a front-line job.

But still . . . I have a nagging concern every time my kids walk into that building.

One incident is an anomaly. Two . . . makes you start to wonder. When does it become a pattern?

Don’t I, as parent, have a right to know that a sexual predator was working in the school? What if there are other victims? I’m not crazy for being upset by this. Am I?

A breach of trust

And then my son comes home and tells me what happened during an actual lockdown. How can I feel anything but shock? Anger? Fury?

Administrators were on the PA system, clearly shaken, advising of a hard lockdown. This means that staff and students need to take precautions: barricade the doors, tie doorknobs shut, stay out of sight lines. And yet, in his class, they sat at their desks and “continued working.” He said kids were crying and scrambling to get their phones–stashed away in a plastic case–and the teacher’s only concern was that they read silently.

I feel so helpless. So completely and utterly helpless that I can’t protect him.

We have no choice but trust

We have no choice but to trust that our children will be safe at school.

We have to trust the teachers and administrators and decision-makers to do what’s best for our kids. And we literally have no choice because attendance is compulsory. The government requires us to send our kids to school, but they cannot guarantee us that our children will be safe at school.

When our kids were little we visited fifteen preschools before selecting the right one. We interviewed a dozen baby-sitters before finding someone worthy of our children. We suffered through interminable small-talk at play dates rather than hand our babies over to a stranger we didn’t really know. We did anything and everything to keep them safe.

But when it comes to keeping our kids safe at school . . . we have no control.

In recent years we have seen that many children are not safe at school. Instead, they are bullied, hurt, abused, killed.

And yet, we are still expected to blindly trust the people responsible for their care. People we have no say in hiring. People we don’t really know. In some cases, people who have no interest in our thoughts, ideas, or opinions.

This is hard. Almost impossible. It’s an unreasonable expectation. Especially in today’s world.

But for many parents there is no alternative. Private school options are no better (as we saw this week), and they are not always available or affordable. And home schooling isn’t an option for everyone.

For now, all we can do is hope that when we send our kids off in the morning they will be safe at school. And that they will return to us in one piece at the end of the day.

This is not an easy task.

If you are a parent freaking out right now, I see you. You are in good company, We are all a little rattled right now.

I’ve got my fingers crossed that your children and mine will be safe at school today and always. Emojis and finger crossing, that’s what we’ve come to.

Off we go!