Like most of the people I know, I cannot stop thinking about the twenty-six people murdered by a lone twenty year old shooter. The horror of twenty children slaughtered ten days before Christmas is almost unbelievable. The television is impossible to watch. Everybody has a theory, every pundit has an opinion, and some experts even claim to know what was going through the mind of the shooter. Me? I'm stunned and in shock. The search for the perfect words for this blog has led me to dead ends in the maze of thoughts that tumble in my head and keep me awake at night.
After Columbine, I devised an escape plan for my classroom. My room was located next door to a storage closet, and there was a door to that closet in the front near the chalkboard . You wouldn't notice it immediately because my computer desk, monitor, and mile high stacks of ungraded assignments provided a camouflage. In my mind, I knew that if I ever heard shots, I could quickly move my students into the closet. The closet was divided by a locking door. I could either sneak them out of the window on one side or huddle them in the windowless section, depending on the situation. If locking all the doors kept me from getting in there with them, at least I could tell the killer my kids were in gym, and thus save them. Yep, I had it all worked out.
What a far cry from the protective measures taken in my elementary school when I was a child. Most of us of a certain age remember Russia being a threat. We were vaguely aware that the Russians could bomb us, but we weren't constantly on alert. When the bomb drill signaled, we crawled under our desks and covered our heads. While a bit uncomfortable, we weren't scared. Some kids would fall asleep and take a little nap. Our teacher would circulate the classroom and water the plants. When the drill was over, we stretched and went back to work, the threat of a communist attack over for that week.
How will the children who survived the massacre ever stretch and yawn and get back to work? How will those innocents ever be children again? How will all of those families ever feel joy or peace again? How? This is a tragedy that feels impossible to mentally survive.
I can't help but worry about my younger niece. This past year, she has developed a lot of fears that are somewhat crippling. She is afraid of the dark and no longer can sleep alone. If we're outside and it begins to rain, she visibly pales and begs to go indoors. She is afraid of hurricanes, tsunamis, and tornadoes. If she gets wind of a storm anywhere on the East coast, she is overcome with anxiety that it will destroy her world. How did this happen to her? She doesn't watch the news, we don't discuss this stuff, and yet, she knows. There will be no protecting her from the shootings in Connecticut. She will hear conversations. She will build fear inside her little head. She may even see something on the television before one of us can change the channel. Will she have difficulty leaving the security of her home to go to school? Will she be one of the many children who will never again feel safe?
I'm not going to rant in favor of gun control. If you know me, you know I have always been a proponent of stricter laws. I believe there are limits to any of the freedoms granted to Americans. The freedom of speech doesn't give you the right to yell fire in a crowded building. And the right to bear arms should not give a citizen the power to own a semi-automatic assault weapon. I believe the writers of the Constitution would roll over in their graves if they saw how the law is being interpreted in current times by the gun lobbyists and others who have a major financial interest in suppressing any restrictions. I have never owned a gun. I have no interest in spending time at a shooting range. And I do not want to live in a house where guns are present. I understand hunters and I do not begrudge them their rifles. I'll just never own one, that's all.
Some say that guns don't kill, people do, and the answer is education. One of the evening news shows blew a hole in that theory. A group of youngsters were given lessons in gun safety and what to do if they ever saw one (not touch it and tell an adult). All of their parents beamed with pride as their children parroted the lessons learned. Then, unloaded guns were placed in amongst their toys. Those same parents watched in horror as their kids picked up the guns, pointed them at each other, and then hid them when they heard the adult returning to the room. When questioned, they denied ever touching the guns because that was dangerous and wrong. No, education is not the answer to gun safety. Don't kid yourself.
I have no answers to offer. Like I said earlier, my thoughts are swirling a mile a minute in my head and banging into dead ends. I mourn the passing of those twenty-six innocents in Connecticut. I pity the shooter. But mostly, I ache for the children near and far who may never feel safe again in this crazy world. I ache for the adults who have lost all that really matters in life.
I am bottomless sad.
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