The How is More Important Than The Why

There have been twenty-seven school shootings so far this year. That's not a typo. According to NPR, there have been twenty-seven school shootings. We will end 2022 with almost sixty-five school shootings if this keeps up. 

If that does not make your jaw drop, guns surpassed car accidents as the Number 1 cause of death in children in 2020. This information came in a research letter in the New England Journal of Medicine. That number increased thirty percent between 2019 and 2020. 

Finally, if that statistic does not stagger you, consider this: at least thirty-seven children have been killed in school shootings so far in 2022. Thus far, in 2022, twenty police officers have been shot and killed in the line of duty. Right now, in the United States of America, our children, legally compelled to attend school, are not safe. (Sources: https://www.edweek.org/leadership/school-shootings-this-year-how-many-and-where/2022/01; https://www.odmp.org/search/year?year=2022)

According to Vox, the U.S. not only has more guns than other countries; but we also have more gun violence. 

In the wake of this most recent shooting, we have heard calls for more focus on mental health. We can do that. We can put more resources toward mental health supports to identify and reduce isolation. That is perfectly reasonable. As long as those mental health dollars are there for those services. In the days after this tragedy, Governor Greg Abbott asserted that Texas needed to "do a better job with mental health." That is the same Governor Abbott who, in April, withdrew $211 million from the department's budget that oversees mental health, according to NBC news. 

We have also heard leaders ask to further harden schools and arm teachers. Perhaps we can consider the former. The latter suggestion is utter nonsense. 

The individual in Uvalde, Texas, who committed this unspeakable crime, was armed with two AR-15 rifles and more than 1000 rounds of ammunition. For context, according to CBS, a United States soldier would take 210 rounds into combat. 

We have too many assault-style guns available in the United States. Period. Individuals who cannot legally drink, buy Sudafed, or rent a car can access weapons designed to do one thing and one thing only: kill people quickly. And sadly, they are doing just that. 

Other countries have shown us that changes can be made. Both Scotland and New Zealand responded swiftly to senseless school shootings with legislation. Neither country has seen a repeat of that day since. 

If these weapons were not as easily accessible as they are, we would not be having this problem. That is a fact supported by the data above. We can talk all we want about better mental health services. But until we do something about the ease of putting deadly weapons in the hands of people who are not trained to use them, who intend to simply kill others, we will continue to allow our children to die for their right to bear arms. 

The how is more important than the why. 

What is the Greater Good?

One of my all-time favorite musicals is Les Miserables. I first saw it in high school, again with my family when I was in college, and for a third time when I was dating my then-girlfriend, now-wife. I regularly have the soundtrack on while cooking, much to my family's chagrin.   

It is an adaptation of Victor Hugo's 1862 novel of the same name, with the protagonist Jean Valjean. Set in early 19th century France, Valjean is a peasant seeking redemption after being imprisoned for nineteen years for stealing bread to feed his sister's child. Shortly after his release from prison to parole, he is welcomed by a bishop into his home. Overwhelmed by the bishop's kindness, Valjean steals silverware from him but is caught by the police. 

When the police bring Valjean to the bishop with their suspicions, the bishop continues to show kindness to Valjean: 

But my friend, you left so early
Surely something slipped your mind
You forgot I gave these also
Would you leave the best behind?
So Monsieurs, you may release him
For this man has spoken true
I commend you for your duty
May God's blessings go with you. 

In essence, the bishop lied to protect Valjean. He knew Valjean's story, and he knew how much Valjean was struggling with the weight of his release to parole. The bishop knew it was wrong for Valjean to steal his silverware, but he also knew no good would come from Valjean going back to jail. 

The entire musical hinges on this moment. If the bishop tells the truth, the story ends there. Valjean goes back to jail and does not find his redemption. However, the bishop sees the greater good and gives Valjean a second chance. 

Often as educators, we are faced with similar dilemmas. When we know the stories of our students, our worlds become less black and white and more gray. I've told the story of how I came down so hard on one of my students in my first years of teaching. He had not completed his homework, and I really laid into him in front of the entire class. When I finally took the time to ask why he did not do his homework, he told me that his brother had run away from home the night before. That was one of many moments I wished I had back as a teacher. 

There are policies, procedures, and rules, and they exist for a reason. We need them for our schools and our districts to be places of predictability and safety. There are clear lines that we cannot cross. There are clear lines that our students cannot cross. Those must remain. 

Still, there are plenty of other places in our educational world where those lines are not so clear. Educators have a great deal of latitude when it comes to our students, what they do, where they go, and when they do it. And these past two years have been traumatic for both students and educators alike. We are all in need of grace and patience. Every human has been through heightened levels of stress, expectations, and anxiety. It weighs on all of us. 

Since that is our reality, let us continue to show kindness to each other and our students. I would offer that there is no one anywhere in our lives that cannot benefit from more grace and patience. We can emulate the bishop in Les Miserables. 

Let that be the greater good. 

Photo courtesy of www.fromthecarriagehouse.com

Not On Our Watch

When I was a little boy, I was fascinated by fire engines. I loved to visit fire stations, and they loved to have me. The firefighters would welcome me, allow me to climb up into the front, sit in the cab of the hook and ladder, and generally have fun in and around their vehicles. 

My fondness for firefighters evolved into a more mature understanding of their work as I grew up. Yes, they drive in beautiful, shiny vehicles equipped with flashing lights and sirens. And as an aside, I would love to have a car with flashing lights and sirens. To this day, I go to the window when I hear a siren to see the vehicle. But back to our firefighters. 

They run in when others are running out. It is their job to sit and wait for an emergency. Certainly, they do preventative work, but the actual substance of their world is to wait for our worlds to turn sideways. And when that happens, they jump into their shiny vehicles, equipped with flashing lights and sirens, to come to help us. 

When I lived in Chicago, I got used to the sight of firefighters sitting in chairs in the warm summer months outside of their firehouses. Something was reassuring about their camaraderie, seeing them connect with each other in moments when they were not needed. Seeing the garage doors open and their vehicles behind them made me feel safe. 

And then came 9/11. And on that terrible day in America's history, there were New York City's, and Washington DC's, and Shanksville's Bravest men and women running towards danger. Running towards the danger. Many, many firefighters lost their lives that day. Many more who survived are scarred for life by what they experienced, saw, and did on that day. 

To be clear, I am in no way comparing what educators do to what firefighters do. It didn't take long for me to realize that I did not have what it took to be a firefighter. But right now, educators are dealing with a very, very troubling reality. The reality that Frank Bruni of the New York Times noted in his most recent column is that: "...we humans seem more partial than ever to convenient fantasy over thorny truth." 

Books are being banned. Curriculum is being censored. Someone shattered the front door of the Pride Center in Burlington. 

We are public schools - we open our doors to every student exactly the way they are. In all my years in education, there are few absolutes, but one of them is this: our students will not learn to their fullest potential if they do not feel safe, welcome, and included when they come to school. I know that for a fact. 

You are struggling with your gender identity? You are welcome in our school. 

You are worried that you are attracted to someone of the same gender as you? You are welcome in our school. 

You are concerned about the impact of slavery and racism in our world? You are welcome in our school. 

You are unsure of where you stand on all these issues? You are welcome in our school. 

All we ask is that you be open to learning and growing. Open to the possibility of being wrong. Open to the notion that someone's life experience can change your perspective. Open to wrestling with the "thorny truth." Isn't that what democracy is all about? 

That takes courage. That takes humility. That takes patience. That takes grace. 

This is what educators do. They open their doors to all, welcoming all to their classrooms. Working diligently, tirelessly, and often on their own time to meet the needs of all the students that are in our buildings. 

We are not firefighters. We have the utmost gratitude for them. They rush into danger when others are running out. 

We are educators. We open our doors, our arms, and our hearts to every single student. Exactly the way they are. 

We are the guardians of this public, sacred trust. For those who wish to challenge this, we say, not on our watch. 

Photo courtesy of www.etsy.com

Look for the Good

I was a fan of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood growing up. For a long time, we were only allowed to watch shows on PBS, Channel 13 in New York. I was on a strict diet of Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, and The Electric Company. So it's no surprise that I am drawn to the quote attributed to him: 

"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' "

And it is in this spirit that I am writing this week. 

I am a fan of the New York Yankees, and something happened this week that has received national attention. On Tuesday, May 3, Aaron Judge hit a home run in Toronto, an estimated 427 feet. The ball landed in the second deck of the Rogers Centre, landing in a tray of hot dogs. It was scooped up by Mike Lanzilotta, a Blue Jays fan. 

Now, I've been to many, many baseball games in my life, from tee-ball all the way up through and including the pros, and I've never caught a baseball while at a game. I have a sentimental view of a baseball ticket; I look at it as a chance to see greatness, something magical. Maybe it will be a perfect game, maybe there will be a no-hitter, maybe a team will turn a triple play. For the non-baseball fans, those are all pretty rare. Nonetheless, I do believe there's a real chance you will see something special when you show up to a baseball game. 

Back to Lanzilotta. If you watch the video, take a closer look around the 40-second mark. Lanzilotta recovers the ball and starts to put both hands in the air to celebrate. He's clearly a fan, and even though his team did not hit the home run of the more than 22,000 people in attendance that night, he has his hands on a major league baseball. Something special. 

Lanzilotta never fully raises his hands in celebration because, in the course of trying to get the ball, he's turned around and has noticed 9-year-old Derek Rodriguez, complete in his Yankee hat and Aaron Judge t-shirt, in the row behind him. And in a moment that still causes me to tear up, Lanzilotta hands Rodriguez the ball. Rodriguez's shock turns into joy, turns into tears, and turns into an impromptu embrace with Lanzilotta. Yes, I am crying, and so are you. 

There is so much good in the world; we just have to look a little harder to see it these days. It's happening in ordinary ways that are not being captured on an internationally televised major league broadcast. From holding the door for others to checking up on a friend. From anonymously paying for the person behind you in line to sitting in silence with someone who is struggling. From meeting the needs of a student to meeting the needs of a colleague. 

So given the tumultuous nature of our world, I offer this slight tweak to the quote of one of my heroes: 

"Since I'm no longer a boy, and I still see scary things in the world. I will look for the good. I will always find people who are good." 

Thank you to Toronto Blue Jays fan Mike Lanzilotta for your pure example of good. 

If you are so inspired, please share a story of good in your world in the comments below. 

A Flight Like No Other

As a part of a recent family vacation, I was on a flight from Philadelphia to Phoenix, and it was like no other flight I've ever been on in my life. Ever. 

We were notified at the beginning of the flight that we were carrying the body of a fallen United States Service member on the plane. When the announcement was made, there was the typical chatter you expect to hear on the ground while the aircraft was still at the gate. After that announcement was made, there was absolute and utter silence. I mean, literally - no one was speaking. 

After a few minutes, some quiet conversations began, the plane pushed back from the gate, the flight attendants did their safety briefing, and we were off to Phoenix. It was a perfectly normal flight, all the way through to our taxiing on the ground. As we approached the gate, the flight attendants reminded us again that a fallen service member was on the plane with us. Further, we were asked to allow the service member's family to exit the plane first. Again, silence on the plane. 

When we finally turned into the gate, what I saw out the window caused me to cry. On either side of the gate, military personnel, law enforcement vehicles and officers, two fire engines with large flags flying from their ladders. Every individual stood at attention, saluting our plane as we slowly inched forward to park. There was a hearse waiting to bring the service member to their family, as well as some individuals standing nearby. 

The silence was deafening, especially when the captain turned off the "fasten seat belt sign." Usually, we hear clicks as the plane approaches the gate. Folks are excited to grab their bags and ultimately wait until the door opens for deplaning. The familiar "ding" accompanied the light for seat belts going dark. Nothing. Not one person moved. Not one person spoke. Unknowingly, I was holding my own breath. I could not hear a sound. 

From behind me, I did hear some seat belts being taken off and some people walking toward the front of the plane. Four people, two in military dress uniform, exited the plane. Still utter silence. No one moved. No familiar clicks of seat belts coming off. No hustling to get overhead baggage. No jostling to get off the plane. 

I looked out the window to see the four people who had just exited the plane, embracing the people surrounding the hearse. All the law enforcement personnel and military personnel were still standing at attention, still saluting. I started to cry again. 

I was struck by the universality of the response to this situation. It wasn't about political parties, personal agendas, or points of view. It wasn't about whether you agreed with the current administration, masking or not, vaccines or boosters. It wasn't about anything other than the reality that someone who had chosen to serve our country in our armed forces lost their life. The solemnity and gravity of that loss of life was palpable and transcended the divisions we have created in our lives. Even if just for a few moments, on American Airlines, flight 478. 

I only wish we could find more ways to connect as humans that did not involve death. 

Footnote: Sincere thanks to the entire American Airlines flight crew for that day, as well as all my fellow passengers. As someone who has been blessed by family members who have served in the military and all returned home safely, I wish peace for the family of the fallen member of our armed forces. 

Photo courtesy of www.stock.adobe.com