SCHOOL SAFETY

Hardened Hearts on The Heels of School Shootings Make My Head Explode

Are we desensitized to the tragedies?

Wait, that’s not right.

I looked at the empty counter through the glass door. My confusion ignited slowly but most certainly grew. The unsettled feeling was not fear, but more like hesitancy that things were askew.

Compounding the issue of an empty reception area was the door that opened with little resistance. In fact, no resistance.

This was definitely not right.

On Friday, I bounded up the few steps, excited to pick up my grandson from his learning center. His program is more than a daycare, less than a state-required school system. My grandson still has another full year before he qualifies for kindergarten. He has been enrolled there for the past two years. Social skills and peer awareness are vital components of development. He has mastered more in class than he would if he stayed home with no siblings and only me, his Yaya.

The learning center projects intimacy and warmth. Their programs include infants to preschoolers, proper ratios of teacher/child classrooms, and loving, trustworthy hands. The total population hovers around 100, I suppose.

Wherever your eyes land, you will see colorful artwork, inspirational posters, and photos of kids enjoying activities. The learning center implemented top-notch sterilization procedures and proactive protections when the virus hit. The staff made it look easy as they prevented the insidious tentacles of Covid from spreading through their little charges.

Caring. Loving. Proactive.

Protectors.

All good, right? The administrator and teachers possess qualities important to parents and guardians. As will happen, there existed feelings of extended family in our relationships. We shared personal details of separations, divorces, vacations, and kids’ milestones or quirks. Family.

When I arrived, I expected the same old protocol for entering the building and found none; nothing made sense.

I closed the front door behind me and verified that I had engaged the lock. Then, I just stood there, dead centered in the foyer. The usual noises filtered out from the various rooms and cued me that nothing nefarious presented concern. My agitation, though, quickly replaced my confusion. I stood visibly in the middle and purposely did not call out to anyone.

How long would it take before they realized I made an entry?

What may have been three minutes felt like an eternity.

Three minutes was excruciating for my active imagination filled with horrific images. What could happen, what has happened elsewhere, all bombarded my mind with little control. My blood flow increased from a slow simmer to the brink of boiling.

What if, what if, what if?

The giggles from small children filtered by and grabbed my attention.

The gatekeeper, missing from her seat at the front counter, casually rounded the corner and said, “Hi, Yaya.”

I didn’t respond immediately in order to allow my unauthorized presence to sink in. I awaited the question of how I defeated the buzzer access to bubble to the surface.

Her eyebrows raised, but not the question I anticipated. No question at all was forthcoming. I slowly and clearly started talking. A teacher walked behind her and stopped to listen. My electrified energy field must have sent her a telepathic message that I seethed at this point.

Did you know the front door was open? Even if it was closed, it wouldn’t have mattered because it was not locked. The. door. was. open. It. was. not. locked. Aren’t you glad that it was me who came in?

They looked back and forth at each other, and explanations went into overdrive, minus any discernable passion. “That must’ve been Joe, the handyman. He comes and goes frequently, so…”

I enjoyed a pregnant pause so these women could hear their words echo back into their brains. I waited, silent.

Some follow-up to the words included head shaking, shoulder shrugging, and outstretched hands accompanied by, “We had no idea that Joe wasn’t thinking. He has to go in and out to his truck a lot.”

As if it was okay. Because, you know, Joe.

I inhaled slowly for dramatic effect.

Joe is inconvenienced by the security? At a kids’ learning center? So sorry. Maybe he shouldn’t work here then if it’s such a problem for him. You don’t have to hire him, either. How awful for you, too, to have to check or ensure that there’s coverage at the front desk when you need to refill your coffee, facetime your boyfriend, or do whatever it is you do when you step away.

At the very least, any child could have walked outside, made it to the road, maybe never to be seen again. At the most, the school could be headlining the news, complete with a death toll of the lives senselessly and tragically lost.

Maybe you’re not worried about your baby in the infant room, so I will do it for you. Of course, my concern alone won’t save any of our babies.

I let my out-of-character mini tirade sink in. My gears switched quickly upon seeing my little guy’s smile, and we left the building without looking back. He wrapped his warm hand in mine so he could show me, like every day, how he is the highest, best jumper ever, to clear the two steps to the parking lot.

My soured stomach followed me home and my brain questioned my nightmarish visions relentlessly.

Caring. Loving. Proactive?

Protectors?

This school safety incident begs the question of how quickly we get over the tragedies. Is it the frequency that makes them somehow expected and oddly accepted? Do we just talk about the great injustice, the loss of innocent lives, throw in mental health, and guns, and then return to our comfortable status quo?

Loose cannons are everywhere.

I do hold a learning center, a school of any and all levels, to a different standard. Whether or not my grandchild is under their roof, no child should be handled in an environment where cavalier attitudes are at the helm.

Thanks to them, they kept any school outbreaks of Covid at bay. All new procedures, methods of cleanliness, and proactive policies were addressed. Standards were maintained.

Now, how hard is it to keep a door locked and closed?

Anyone?

Joe?

I know that the simple act of closing and locking a door won’t prevent a lunatic driven to take lives. I also know that the parents, caregivers, and guardians involved in schools walk paths unknown to me, to you, and to the school staff. Erring on the side of caution is warranted.

Loose cannons are everywhere.

If even a few seconds of deterrence makes a difference, why not do it?

Education Week has been tracking school shootings since 2018. According to its database, 119 such incidents have taken place since then. ~ NPR

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