On any given day I enter my classroom carrying my keys, purse, coffee cup, a stack of photocopies, a poster I’ve laminated or a box of books.
In the classroom my hands are usually full. At some point in the day almost any elementary school teacher is holding a marker, a pen, a stopwatch, a clipboard, a book, a happy-face stamp, a stack of recently collected papers, a Band-Aid or a stapler.
All day I’m moving. I am kneeling alongside a student’s desk to offer help, writing on the board, reading aloud, walking among the rows of students, leading them in line to the library or cafeteria, guiding them through sit-ups and push-ups in PE, or adjusting ponytails and collars.
With 34 students to keep occupied, educated, challenged, happy and safe, I can’t figure out how and where to fit a gun into my classroom. In a holster under my shirt? In the locked desk drawer I use for stashing field trip funds or book order money?
School shootings have become a sad reality in our country at the rate of approximately one per week. Politicians and others call for arming teachers to keep our students safer. Sen. Rand Paul advocated for weapons on campus after the Sandy Hook Elementary shooting in 2012; Dr. Ben Carson echoed that cry after the recent spate of shootings on college campuses.
The potential for an intruder to burst into the school building is never far from a teacher’s mind. At recess, teachers watch carefully when helicopters circle heavily overhead, waiting to hear if a lockdown will be called and calculating the quickest way to get 240 children to safety. When a car is stopped on the side of the freeway just yards from the playground, teachers’ eyes are drawn to it like a magnet. When someone stares down at the campus from the nearby pedestrian bridge, teachers are on alert.
We count off potential dangers: a fugitive fleeing the border which runs nearly alongside the school campus, a non-custodial parent demanding access to his or her child, a former student angry at those who bullied him and those who didn’t protect him, or even a child who found his parent’s gun and brought it to school to show off to friends.
Each year I evaluate both my classroom and my students for how best to hide them from an intruder. I know which students are street-smart and full of common sense, who would know to call 911 if I were taken down. I’m conscious of the tiny handful of students I’d have to fight to keep hidden, as they would want to burst out and take on intruders with a combination of bravado and meanness. I’ve almost convinced myself I could hit someone over the head with the fire extinguisher that’s mounted right by the door. With enough adrenaline coursing through my veins, I could throw staplers, books, the globe or even boxes of crayons in the face of an unwanted visitor. I could create distractions so my students could flee.
I could not shoot a gun. Not even to save my students. Not even to save myself.
Even if I took shooting lessons, spent hours at the range, became the kind of person who could blow the heart out of a paper target on the first try without flinching, I don’t know that I could keep my wits about me when the lives of 34 children are at stake. Would fear and anger shake my aim?
Keeping a gun in my classroom would not reduce danger but rather double it.
I would feel the weight of it in whichever locked drawer it was stored. My desk drawer, instead of being the place where students can rummage for tape or paper clips, would be the locked vault, the place where danger looms. I’d no longer have the luxury of losing my keys several times a day, knowing that one of those keys was all that kept students separated from harm. It would be hard not to fear an angry, damaged student getting his hands on the gun.
I would forever be wondering if I could reach the gun fast enough. With my hands full and my body in motion, the logistics of abandoning the task at hand, getting children into their hiding places then unlocking, loading and successfully using a gun are daunting. The likelihood of me being disarmed is high; most adults and even some of my students are larger and stronger than I am. The risk is great that it would be turned on me or on the little people in my care.
It is urgent that we find a solution to school gun violence. Arming me isn’t it.
