America’s Next School Shooting and Me

This is Hannah, and she’s the most wonderful girl in the world. As her father I am slightly biased, but that fact doesn’t make my statement any less true. This picture was taken a couple of years ago when we last had snow. Hannah loves the snow, and that day was one of the happiest we’ve ever shared. But Hannah understands that she might not see snow again.

Not many of you will know Hannah. But next week, or next month, you could all be whispering her name in your thoughts and prayers. On that snowy January day, I’d received an ALERT MESSAGE from Hannah’s school. Thankfully, it had been to inform me that because of snow, school would be closed until Monday. But, Hannah is aware that the next alert message I receive, might not be so benign.

At school, Hannah loves science and mathematics, and dreams of becoming a vet. As most young girls do, Hannah loves animals, but she also cares deeply about people. That’s just her nature. Hannah would like to work in a PDSA where helping the animals will also help their parents, people who perhaps can’t afford such help from other sources. But Hannah understands that there’s an increasing chance that such dreams might never be realized.

Hannah’s already planning transportation and outfits for prom, but she knows that her senior prom is something she might not live to enjoy. She also understands that if politicians don’t take money from gun manufacturers for their campaigns, then they might lose their elections, and therefore their jobs. Because Hannah cares about people, she doesn’t want anybody to lose their job. So, Hannah accepts the way that things are and hopes that as a school, and as a family, we’ll all be lucky.

Yesterday we bought a new cover for Hannah’s iPhone. Of course, it’s pink with a glittery cat. As a parent I worry that she has a phone capable of doing so many different things, but I’d worry more if she was ever unable to contact me in an emergency. The man in front of us at the store bought two lottery tickets. Hannah loves mathematics, so she knows his chances of winning the jackpot are slim. But, we’re just 30 school days into 2018 and have already experienced 18 school shootings, so Hannah also knows that his chance of winning the jackpot this week is a thousand times higher than the chance of her school avoiding a deadly shooting before she graduates.

Hannah knows that the next school shooting, or the one after that, or the ones that will certainly follow those two, might be at her school. But each semester they practice their emergency drills and Hannah’s told me not to worry. She knows what to do when it happens. She isn’t angry at politicians, because in Hannah’s eyes, they’re just adults doing their jobs. To be honest, it’s actually adults that she finds increasingly difficult to understand.

Beyond being a gun, Hannah doesn’t know what an AR15 is or what it’s capable of doing. All Hannah knows is that some adults and politicians feel that it’s important to be allowed to own them. Perhaps she struggles with the fact that some adults seem to cherish their guns more than their children, or value the guns of others above the children of others? But as I say, it’s adults in general that Hannah finds so difficult to understand, and on that point, we’re in increasing agreement.

As we’d slipped Hannah’s iPhone into its new cover, I’d checked that her emergency contacts were still clearly visible on the home screen. Thankfully, they were. But as Hannah had seen me looking, she’d touched my arm and told me not to worry. But I do worry, constantly. And I also worry about my worrying. What kind of person hopes, with lessening levels of guilt, that it’s the name of a teacher who stood in harm’s way, and not Hannah’s name, that I hear being whispered in future thoughts and prayers?

If we get to enjoy another day in the snow, when Hannah throws that snowball, I won’t duck my head. Hannah has a strong arm now, and it will surely hurt. She’ll think it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened and we’ll probably laugh until our stomachs hurt far more than my face. But it’ll be worth it to see her laughing. Will that be the last time I’ll ever see that laugh?

Every day, as Hannah goes off to school with a smile and a fully charged phone, she proves that she’s a little braver than either of her parents, and certainly far braver than her president and politicians who’ve decided that Hannah’s life is worth far less than their own careers and campaign funding.