- In October, my godson was injured in a school shooting in Missouri.
- My oldest son had his first live-shooter drill in preschool.
When my older son was in preschool, his first bus ride was part of a live-shooter drill. The school took my 3-year-old to an undisclosed location without telling me first. Two years later, his younger brother had his first drill. That night he told me not to worry if someone came to school with a gun. "I'm little, Mommy," he said in his sweet squeaky voice. "If a bad guy comes, I'll hide in my backpack and zip myself up."
Their magical thinking is long gone. This year, my older son started middle school, where students must always wear IDs. It's a strongly enforced policy, and students who forget more than three times owe money and get detention. When I asked about it at a parent meeting, an administrator told me it was for safety reasons. She went on to say it was needed to identify bodies in case of a mass-casualty event. It made me sick to my stomach.
My godson was injured in a school shooting
Then in October, a shooting happened at my godson Brian's high school. A 19-year-old former student with an AR-15-style rifle and 600 rounds of ammunition entered the school, killing a student in the hallway before making his way to my godson's classroom.
Brian's teacher was fatally shot while shielding Brian and his classmates with her body. Somehow — by sheer adrenaline, the protection of their teacher, and the grace of God — the students escaped, jumping out a second-story window. After landing, Brian ran and hopped a fence, then crossed the street to safety. Only then did he realize he had been shot.
I was hundreds of miles away at a work meeting at the University of Virginia, which had a shooting a month later. Before my meeting, I saw a missed call from my husband and a text that read, "I need to update you on something, call me before you go on social media."
I knew it was a school shooting. When my husband told me my godson had been shot, I felt the pain and panic reserved for a mother who loves her children. My godchildren are an integral part of our family. They've grown up with my boys, spending summers and school breaks together, and for a period when they were babies their family lived with us full time.
I left the meeting in shock and had to tell my boys via FaceTime as I made my way to the airport. By the next morning I was with Brian and his parents in the hospital, learning the full extent of his injuries. Brian had been shot through both hands and had a bullet lodged in his jaw, centimeters from a major artery. He had broken bones from the shooting and the jump. We were told it was a miracle he survived.
I hate that I can't promise my children safety
The boys stayed home that week. We slept together in the big bed and held each other tight. I didn't want them in school, and I hated that I couldn't promise they'd be safe when they returned. I privately — and unfairly — hoped they had teachers like Brian's: heroes who would throw themselves between my babies and a shooter, acting as a human shield. I barely slept, constantly thinking about ways to keep them safe and stop these shootings.
For years I've been trying to do my part to end gun violence. I've donated, marched, and written op-ed articles. I've dutifully called my elected officials, voted, and demanded action, mobilizing other mothers to act. As a former school leader and teacher, I've written and enforced safety policies, guarded students during lockdowns, had a gun directed at me, and removed a gun from a student's backpack.
Now I'm the godparent of a survivor.
I've expected a school shooting for a while, feeling as if the circle of terror was tightening. Columbine happened almost 25 years ago, shocking everyone; I didn't know anyone affected. Sandy Hook was 10 years ago, bringing every parent to their knees; my friend's children were in the building. Parkland was five years ago; our pediatrician's niece was in the building. By the time Uvalde happened, I sensed that the circle was a bull's-eye and that the bull's-eye was on my children.
I believe we can keep children safe and use guns safely
It's been four months since the shooting, and Brian is back at school. Every morning I hug my boys, make sure my older son has his ID, and send them back into buildings where their safety is not guaranteed. I listen to politicians pontificate about gun rights and think about how it violates my children's rights. At the same time, I'm raising my children in a community with responsible gun owners, many of who are parents and educators. I believe we can come up with solutions that protect our kids and schools while allowing people to own and use guns safely.
I wonder what it will take for change to come. Last year there were nearly 300 shootings at schools in the US, a historic high. This is an American generational phenomenon. For now, our nation's protection of guns keeps us from protecting our children. Attending school means risking their lives.
Stephanie Malia Krauss is a mom, educator, and social worker. Her book "Whole Child, Whole Life: 10 Ways to Help Kids Live, Learn, and Thrive" will be released on May 23. She is the founder of First Quarter Strategies and the author of "Making It: What Today's Kids Need for Tomorrow's World."