‘MERICA
Why We Changed Schools
Safety for the privileged
I wrote this piece after the gut-wrenching events that occurred at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde. What unfolded at the Covenant School in Nashville is a stark reminder that we aren’t safe anywhere in this country as long as our lawmakers continue to turn a blind eye to the needless slaughter of children, happening on repeat.
Five years ago my husband and I decided to pack up our two kids and modest San Francisco rental apartment’s worth of furniture and do what many have done — moved to Texas in search of a better quality of life for our family. We were tired of long commutes and out-of- reach housing costs. Our life had become one giant hamster wheel and we had to keep sprinting just to keep moving, without actually getting anywhere.
The central location would allow us to visit family on either coast with ease and its lack of harsh winters was appealing. We did an exhaustive search of towns and landed in an area just outside of Austin known for its rolling hills, open spaces, extensive family-friendly activities, and top- notch public schools. It checked all of the boxes for what constituted a family-friendly location and we were excited to enter this new chapter of family life.
When it was time to send our older son to kindergarten we enrolled him into our local public school, without hesitation. It was fantastic. Our son loved the school and was thriving. We loved his teachers and felt an even deeper tie to the community we had chosen. Things got even better when we enrolled our younger son. We’d watch them walk out the door and onto the bus that picked up right across the street from our house.
It was so ideal. My younger son also thrived. He made friends and loved riding the bus with his brother. We participated in school events and I briefly joined the PTO. We were connected to an amazing community of friends and neighbors. It had all come together so seamlessly.
And then Uvalde happened. Like so many parents, I was gutted by this horrific event. My brain couldn’t comprehend how something so grotesque could happen at a school, again.
I became obsessed with the news coverage and couldn’t stop watching everything unfold through teary eyes over and over. I sobbed for those babies and for their parents and siblings they left behind. I read about each child who was killed and donated to as many of their ‘gofundme’ accounts as I could.
There was something about this particular school massacre that gripped me tighter than any of the previous ones.
Maybe because Uvalde is a few hours away, and this was the first time an elementary school shooting happened when I had two elementary school kids of my own. Maybe it was also because of the shocking footage of a hoard of armed men, bumbling around outside the classroom where 19 children and two teachers teachers were being slaughtered.
In the week following the shooting, I’d drive my kids to school and sit in the parking lot for 30 minutes after dropping them off. I literally thought I could somehow stop a crazy guy with a military-style assault rifle, and save my babies and all of the babies inside. So I would sit and wait until the latest possible minute before having to go home and start my work day. I felt anxious and listless for every minute my kids were at school. When school adjourned for the summer one week later, I was overcome with relief.
Once I was able to think more clearly knowing my kids were no longer in what to me felt like imminent harm’s way at school, I shifted my focus to action. What could I, one parent, in one town do? I knew one thing with all the certainty in my being — I would never be able to stomach sending them back to our beloved public school again.
I left messages for various senators, knowing the messages would have absolutely no impact. I threw a bit of money at gun reform organizations and donated as much as I could to politicians who support common sense gun reform.
I set up a meeting with the head of security for the school district and grilled him for an hour. I came armed with a notebook and asked him to explain in detail how we are different from Robb Elementary. He told me I was the only parent to actually show up to a scheduled meeting. How could that be?
I asked him how we can prevent this from happening in our district. How would the police here react? What went so catastrophically wrong at Robb Elementary? Can we get armed guards at each of the campuses? I even asked him about ballistic grade backpacks.
As the words left my body I felt limp. Am I actually asking this man how effective he thinks “bullet-proof” backpacks are for my eight and six-year olds? Turns out they are worthless against the bullet of an AR-15 or similar weapons. I shuttered.
While he assured me to the extent that he could that he was doing everything in his power to keep the kids in the district safe, it just wasn’t enough for me. And for the record, he told me the idea of arming teachers is asinine. He’s been a police officer for 30 years. I’m going to trust his opinion on that.
After that meeting I called every private school within a 20 mile radius of my home. I jumped on the ones with openings. When touring schools, I never led with security questions, but was sure to casually weave them into the conversation.
We got accepted to one of our top choices and I sobbed as soon as I got the news. I was overcome with relief. I felt in control of a situation that at a macro level is so far out of all of our control. I was doing something that I felt would protect my children.
As overwhelmingly relieved as I felt, I was also simultaneously struck by a strange sense of guilt. I felt guilty that I was pulling them out of a school they loved so much, where all of their neighborhood buddies went. I felt guilty that I was leaving our friends behind. But this new school had two armed guards, a gate and all kinds of other security bells and whistles that satiated my quest for a sense of safety.
It is true that danger lurks everywhere. I know this to be logically true. It is statistically dangerous to drive my car, something I do every single day without a moment’s hesitation.
The fear comes from a sense of not being in control and from watching far too many massacres on school grounds in the news. Not to mention the thousands of children killed by guns that don’t occur on school grounds. Firearms are the leading cause of death in children in America. Full stop.
While I know that I cannot protect my children from everything, school shootings in America have become far too common for my comfort so I needed to choose what felt like a safer option.
The statistics I analyzed unequivocally supported my decision, but I still felt guilty. Is this really the right decision? Will my kids like this new school? Will my old school friends feel abandoned? Most people don’t have the luxury of sending their kids to a private school.
How sad that we live in a country where children are slaughtered on school grounds and yet we do nothing other than send thoughts and prayers and talk about mental health. Guess what — mental health issues exist in every country. Every. Single. Country. You know what doesn’t? Regular mass casualties of children via assault rifles at schools. I’ll let the statistics speak for themselves.
In America, we so clearly value guns more than kids. The same lawmakers who refuse to do anything about the reckless gun laws in our country are the same ones who claim to be pro-life. They value unborn children over born children, because the NRA pays well. They claim that their hands are tied because of the constitution, unless it comes to Roe v. Wade.
Every time I feel guilty about our decision to switch to a private school, I think, shame on the lawmakers for putting us in this situation in the first place. Shame on them for making children’s safety a privilege. Shame on them for valuing guns over kids. This can all change. All schools could be safe.
As could all concert venues, shopping malls, churches and grocery stores. The solution is so simple.
And no it’s not about installing metal detectors, x-ray machines and so forth. It’s about making it harder to get a gun and keeping military-style assault rifles out of the wrong hands. Period. You can’t rent a car until you’re 25, because your frontal lobe hasn’t fully developed until then, but here’s your AR-15 junior… have at it! How does this make sense?! It fucking doesn’t and anyone with more than two brain cells knows this.
I know without a doubt there will be a point in time, sadly in the distant future, when people look back and say, “Wow, can you believe American lawmakers witnessed massacre after massacre of kids and did absolutely nothing about gun laws for a really, really long time? How barbaric were they!?! Sure glad I didn’t live back then!”
Until then, I will trust the instincts that informed my decision to change schools. I will acknowledge how fortunate we are to be able to do it, and I will continue to support common-sense gun reform. Getting the chance to play at recess should not be a luxury, but here we are.
Fuck guns. Fuck the lawmakers who are in bed with the NRA. I don’t know what it’s going to take for meaningful change to happen, but in the meantime, you better believe someone’s planning the next school massacre. Could be in your community, could be in mine — and we will just sit back, and send thoughts and prayers.
