Most of my current students, I realize, have never ever attended school without the background fear of being summarily mowed down. While they finger painted, practiced their clarinets, or stood at white boards working through math problems, they did so having internalized the entirely plausible threat of being maimed or murdered where they stood. It takes the discourse of trigger warnings to an absurd new level when classrooms themselves have become symbols of PTSD.
It isn’t as if U.S. schools have ever been uniformly safe, of course. For marginalized students in forgotten communities, there is a long history of violence, danger, and uncertainty. And even privileged students at well funded schools may deal with sexual violence and bullying. But this is different, both because of the scale of its impersonal ferocity, and because this murderous fad is so explicitly enabled by our own government. It has, effectively, been open season on schoolchildren for as long as my current students have been alive.
It’s a tragic context that lends a perverted twist to my musings about the power and appeal of online education: Will the heightened fear of campuses on lockdown make students grab even more eagerly for course credits they can earn from the relative safety of their homes? Will concerns about gun-toting classmates further dampen classroom conversations about social injustice, politics, or ethics, making it less and less important to address one another face-to-face?
How many of our students, already destabilized by financial and mental health issues, not to mention nagging worries like climate change, the rollback of LGBT rights, and a potential war with Korea, will lean more towards online classes as a way to hold some anxiety at bay? And how many parents, having wearily sent their kids into potential killing fields for years now, will encourage their adult children to attend college from their bedrooms? It is certainly easy enough to imagine online education increasingly becoming a refuge from intolerably unsafe campuses.
Such a possibility points to the true size of the horror because, of course, it is not just schools that have become government sponsored abattoirs, but also public gathering spaces as such. We are murdered at gay nightclubs, outdoor concerts, peaceful protests, and in churches while we pray. We die in parking lots, theaters, and on softball fields. The precipitous erosion of safety in public schools, then, is merely part of a broader trend in which public spaces are desecrated, made uninhabitable by white male violence so banal it is rarely even identified as such.
How shameful that the burden to create change has been left to children who are fed up with being murdered and mutilated at their desks. And how glorious if, under their fierce leadership, we might begin to reclaim not just our schools, but the vitality and intimacy of our shared public lives.