A Refusal of the Status Quo

Photo by Richard Bell on Unsplash

It has happened again. Again we see the anguished parents, the ambulances and police tape. Again we are left to wonder what carnage awaits the first responders who enter the school building, a place of learning turned into a gruesome morgue in a matter of minutes. Again my chest seizes at the thought of the terror that those children endured, and my heart simply breaks open as I imagine so many parents ending the day in agony, without their children. 

I write as an educator.  

I write as a parent of four public school kids. 

I write as an American ashamed of a place where courage can’t be found in the halls of power to protect our children. 

But this isn’t an education crisis; this is a public health crisis; this is a human rights issue.  How is it that in this wealthy superpower, children are not safe in school?  I stopped imagining that our schools could be sanctuaries long ago. Before Uvalde. Before Parkland. Before Santa Fe, Texas. Before Sandy Hook. Before Columbine. And yet, each time a child or a teacher is gunned down, I grieve again that there is no sanctuary. Not in schools. Not for 6-year-olds. Not for 9-year-olds. Not for any of us. Because it has happened again, and it will continue to happen until enough of us will it to stop.

The ensuing noise is predictable to the point of absurdity. There are, of course, the thoughts and prayers. There are the legislators who accuse one another of “politicizing” a tragedy. There are the loud voices who point to anything and everything but the weapons that are used to carry out the murders, the guns that flood our streets and our homes and outnumber people in our country. There are calls for tougher gun laws and calls for people to buy as many guns as possible in anticipation of the tougher gun laws that never come. So much noise, so little action.

We are a country and a culture steeped in guns.  It will take our will and our bravery and our perseverance to address this plague. It will take tough gun laws, but it will also take tough conversations across the aisle and across Main Street.  It will take politicians who can stand up to the gun lobby and their parties, and it will also take the rest of us who can stand up and be counted among the reasonable and rational. When enough of us speak out and change our own behaviors, then a culture can change. Then the laws change to reflect the values of the culture. And then the culture changes some more.

Along with dismantling gun culture, we must create a culture where students and teachers are supported, where mental health care is accessible and affordable, where we speak up when we see troubling behaviors. We must denounce gun violence and also gun culture, a culture that prizes power, condones bullying in our politics and public forums, and foments the desire and expectation to solve our conflicts by exerting control over others. We must resist the narrative that more guns are the answer. Our schools may not be sanctuaries, but neither are they fortresses. Our teachers are not sharp shooters. Our students are not shields. Guns have no place in schools. None.

I wish that I could offer some glimmer of hope or some rousing call to action, but honestly, it is hard not to feel defeated, scared, and consumed by anger at the people and circumstances that have brought us to this point. At times like this, I have to remind myself to do just one thing, take just one action, write just one letter, reach out to just one colleague. And then do it one more time, and one more. Cultural change is rarely the result of a single herculean effort, but rather a persistent and relentless refusal, in all areas of our lives, to accept the status quo.