I have to keep moving. If I stop moving, I am overwhelmed by sadness and dread.
This nation, hell, the world we have known since WWII, is disintegrating.
To try to avoid dwelling on multiple ends of multiple worlds, I rake leaves by the tens of bushels, dig new gardens, walk the dogs, play with the dogs, lift weights, work at the Bookstore, read distractedly, clean almost obsessively, write these increasingly pointless essays, write poetry, record the daily events of weather and birds, try to imagine by the hour what I can do to help forestall the catastrophes I see coming, flee from TV news, and with each action, hope that my focus will give me peace enough to live in the moment and recover my equilibrium and figure something out.
This is a not so small example of one of those collapsing worlds:
A few days ago, the NYT asked teachers whether they would be willing to arm themselves to protect their students in their classrooms and schools. Before I retired 11 years ago, I would never have thought carrying a pistol into my classroom would be anything other than a terrible idea.
Even with training, in the chaos of an attack on a school, in a combat situation (remember that) how are teachers supposed to negotiate through terrified kids, a terrified, armed staff, and complete uncertainty as to what is going on in the hallways?
Do you leave your kids to seek out the shooter? How will police tell you from a mass shooter? How will you identify the shooter? How are teachers to be expected to follow rules of engagement? What rules of engagement make any sense? How is carrying a pistol into a classroom going to affect the dynamic of that classroom? What about accidental shootings? What about teachers who lose their weapons? What about students taking a weapon from a teacher and turning it on their classmates?
By arming teachers, the State is adding to their responsibilities in at least 2 crazy, contradictory ways:
Teachers as nurturers vs. teachers as potential killers.
Teachers as open to give and take and disagreement from their students vs. teachers as unquestioned, even fearsome arbiters of power.
And yet … now, if I were teaching, if permitted, I would think very seriously about arming myself.
I fear that because school shootings generally move at great speed, depending upon a police response is dicey, at best. After the police debacle at Uvalde, relying upon their quick and competent actions has become even more of a gamble.
The Supreme Court has made reasonable gun restrictions almost impossible. Weapons are easily obtained. The Gun Lobby and the NRA and the Republican Party have seen to that. America loves guns more than kids. That is a fact.
What is a teacher to do?
After Columbine, during active shooter drills, I stood next to the door with a lead paperweight in my hand while my kids huddled in the corner at my back.
By inaction and by design, teachers have been abandoned to figure out how to defend their kids. Forget the District Action Plans, the promised police response time, the single officer who may be assigned to your school who may be just as confused about the threat as you. Forget any help coming any time soon in terms of legislative action.
America has decided that every classroom is now the Alamo. No relief column is coming to rescue you. This is America. You’re on your own.
If I were still teaching, the time has come that I think I might want something more powerful in my hand than a hunk of lead.
