I'm tired of Tots and Pears......
"Mom, there is a shooter at my school". That is the last text message ANY parent wants to hear. Ever. And we hear it way too often. I live in Charlotte, North Carolina and the past two weeks have been hell. 5 shootings and 3 fatalities on a Sunday. A gunman opens fire on the University of North Carolina Campus. Every single day it seems we see another child die. And another. And another. And another.
I'm tired of people sending their kids to school and not knowing if they are going to come home. When my son told me last year that one of the biggest reasons he wanted to graduate high school? That he knew he was safer everywhere else in his entire life than he was at school. It gutted me.
We have almost become so desensitized to the shootings and the violence and the death that we get outraged, we feel bad, we send thoughts and prayers, and then we move on. And nothing changes. We aren't surprised when it happens anymore because it seems inevitable. We suffer a little bit of shock and awe if it happens in our town, but we are almost so numb from it happening everywhere else, we don't realize it. But the ones who are not numb are the ones who have to go pick out a casket. The ones who have to decide what to dress their child in before they say their final farewells. The classmates that will suffer PTSD from seeing one of their friends gunned down in front of them. The survivors that will wonder why me? The first responders that go toward the chaos with their hearts pounding, not knowing what they are running into. The medical personnel that try to patch up yet another child; and the ones that see those young bodies come across their tables far too often.
The most recent school shooting that occurred at the stem Academy in Colorado, hit me harder then most. I grieved when I saw the names of the 2 boys who acted so heroically right here in Charlotte, knowing that they gave their lives to keep their classmates safe. But then I saw the face of the young man who gave his life to protect his classmates in Colorado. He was supposed to graduate 3 days later. I looked at that picture of him in his robotics T-shirt with his safety glasses on, taken on the field of play and my chest hurt so much that I felt like my heart stopped. It was like looking at the face of my own child. And the faces of so many children that are some of the most important people in my life. We lost one of our own. We lost a FIRST robotics student and we shouldn't have had to. He shouldn't have had to be a hero. His father shouldn't have had to tell him run away, don't fight, stay alive. He shouldn't have had to tell his father I can't do that; if somebody needs me to help them I will help them. He shouldn't have had to protect his classmates. He shouldn't have had his life cut short and never been able to experience the great things that I am sure that he would have accomplished. His parents shouldn't have to bury him. The FIRST community shouldn't have to mourn him.
Whatever we do, we need to do it. And we need to do it quickly. As adults, we are failing these children. We are more concerned about the effects on ourselves than we are about the effects on them. The days where you could settle a fight on the playground with just your fists are gone. Now you have to be prepared for anyone to have a gun. Children have to be prepared and know what to do in case somebody comes to shoot up their school. Adults have to be prepared and know what to do if a disgruntled employee comes into their office and tries to get revenge. Churches have to be prepared in case somebody wants to attack a house of worship. It seems to me that all of this preparedness is coming at a price. And the price is the lives of our children.
Fly high Kendrick, and Reed, and Riley. You gave your lives in the ultimate sacrifice and for that, you will never be forgotten.
I will never forget where I was when Sandy Hook happened. I cried so hard I made myself sick, vomiting in the bathroom because I felt like my heart had been ripped out through my chest. We swore "never again". Yet it happened again, and again, and again. Almost once a week it happens. I don't know what the answer is. I honestly don't. I know that we as a culture will not give up the right to bear arms. I know we won't do what New Zealand did. But I don't know what we are willing to do. https://www.latimes.com/projects/la-na-school-shootings-since-newtown/
I'm tired of people sending their kids to school and not knowing if they are going to come home. When my son told me last year that one of the biggest reasons he wanted to graduate high school? That he knew he was safer everywhere else in his entire life than he was at school. It gutted me.
We have almost become so desensitized to the shootings and the violence and the death that we get outraged, we feel bad, we send thoughts and prayers, and then we move on. And nothing changes. We aren't surprised when it happens anymore because it seems inevitable. We suffer a little bit of shock and awe if it happens in our town, but we are almost so numb from it happening everywhere else, we don't realize it. But the ones who are not numb are the ones who have to go pick out a casket. The ones who have to decide what to dress their child in before they say their final farewells. The classmates that will suffer PTSD from seeing one of their friends gunned down in front of them. The survivors that will wonder why me? The first responders that go toward the chaos with their hearts pounding, not knowing what they are running into. The medical personnel that try to patch up yet another child; and the ones that see those young bodies come across their tables far too often.
The most recent school shooting that occurred at the stem Academy in Colorado, hit me harder then most. I grieved when I saw the names of the 2 boys who acted so heroically right here in Charlotte, knowing that they gave their lives to keep their classmates safe. But then I saw the face of the young man who gave his life to protect his classmates in Colorado. He was supposed to graduate 3 days later. I looked at that picture of him in his robotics T-shirt with his safety glasses on, taken on the field of play and my chest hurt so much that I felt like my heart stopped. It was like looking at the face of my own child. And the faces of so many children that are some of the most important people in my life. We lost one of our own. We lost a FIRST robotics student and we shouldn't have had to. He shouldn't have had to be a hero. His father shouldn't have had to tell him run away, don't fight, stay alive. He shouldn't have had to tell his father I can't do that; if somebody needs me to help them I will help them. He shouldn't have had to protect his classmates. He shouldn't have had his life cut short and never been able to experience the great things that I am sure that he would have accomplished. His parents shouldn't have to bury him. The FIRST community shouldn't have to mourn him.
Whatever we do, we need to do it. And we need to do it quickly. As adults, we are failing these children. We are more concerned about the effects on ourselves than we are about the effects on them. The days where you could settle a fight on the playground with just your fists are gone. Now you have to be prepared for anyone to have a gun. Children have to be prepared and know what to do in case somebody comes to shoot up their school. Adults have to be prepared and know what to do if a disgruntled employee comes into their office and tries to get revenge. Churches have to be prepared in case somebody wants to attack a house of worship. It seems to me that all of this preparedness is coming at a price. And the price is the lives of our children.
Fly high Kendrick, and Reed, and Riley. You gave your lives in the ultimate sacrifice and for that, you will never be forgotten.
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