It’s hard to understand how something so devastating can become so normal. Every time there’s another school shooting, the same headlines appear, the same posts go viral, and the same “thoughts and prayers” flood in. Then, a few days later, everything goes quiet again, until the next tragedy. It’s a pattern that’s become part of American life, and that’s a terrifying part. We’ve learned to live with it.
Gun violence in schools should be an emergency. It should be the kind of crisis that stops the nation in its tracks. Instead, it’s treated like background noise, something tragic but expected. Students grow up learning lockdown drills before they even learn multiplication. Teachers learn to barricade doors rather than just teach lessons. Parents send their kids to school every day with a quiet fear in the back of their minds, yet the country just keeps moving forward as if this is normal.
The truth is, we’ve become desensitized. Every time the news reports another shooting, people react with shock, sadness, maybe outrage, but only for a moment. Then, the conversation fades, and nothing changes. It’s as if we’ve collectively decided that the deaths of students and teachers are a price we’re willing to pay for inaction. That’s what being “ignored” really looks like. It’s not just silence; it’s choosing not to care enough to do something.
What makes it worse is how selective our outrage has become. Recently, the American flag was lowered to half-staff in honor of a YouTube political commentator, Charlie Kirk. Yet, on the very same day, there was another school shooting in Colorado, another community shattered, and not a single official statement, not a single national moment of grief. It’s a painful reminder of where our attention goes, and where it doesn’t. We honor deaths that fit into a narrative, but we turn away from the ones that should demand our attention most.
We already know what could help. Other countries have faced mass shootings and responded with action, tightened laws, better background checks, secure storage regulations, and limits on certain weapons. Yet, here, we debate and delay. Politicians talk about “mental health” and “hardening schools,” but rarely about the guns themselves. We keep asking teachers to be the first line of defense, as if it’s their job to stop bullets rather than teach students.
And while adults argue, kids are the ones growing up with the trauma. Imagine being a student and wondering if your school could be next. Imagine the anxiety every time there’s a loud noise in the hallway or an unexpected fire drill. These are not fears children should have to carry. Yet, we continue to act like this is just part of life in America.
What does it say about us that we’ve accepted this? That lawmakers can watch children die in their classrooms and still refuse to make meaningful changes? It says our priorities are broken. We’ve chosen convenience over safety, politics over humanity, and denial over accountability.
As a future educator, this is one of my primary concerns as I enter this career. Teaching should be about shaping young minds, not preparing for worst-case scenarios. I should be thinking about lesson plans, not lockdown plans. And yet, this is the reality of what I’m stepping into: a profession that now carries the fear of what could happen in a single, ordinary day.
Gun violence in schools isn’t just a tragedy; it’s a reflection of national neglect. It shows how we fail to protect the most vulnerable members of society: our children. Every unpassed law, every ignored warning, every delayed debate adds up to the same thing: silence disguised as sympathy.
Students deserve to feel safe in their classrooms, not fear them. Teachers deserve to teach, not act as human shields. Parents deserve to trust that their kids will come home. These are simple expectations, but somehow, they’ve become radical demands.
Maybe that’s the saddest part of all: asking for safety in schools now feels like asking for too much.
