There’s something uniquely American about the Second Amendment right to bear arms. No other country in the world enshrines such a right. And, heartbreakingly, there’s also something uniquely American about our children practicing “run, hide, defend” drills at school in the event of an active shooter.
This morning, my 7-year-old daughter told me about her drill. She told me that her class has to be the fastest because they’re the first classroom on campus. She asked me, “What happens if we’re not the fastest and someone was there to hurt them?” Then she told me, with the kind of blind faith only a child can have, that her teacher said she would protect them. (We do not deserve teachers!)
No one and nothing prepares you for that conversation as a parent. And no matter how much I want to, I can no longer look my daughter in the eye and guarantee with 100% certainty her safety when I drop her off at school each morning. That truth is devastating.
I was a junior at Prospect High School in Saratoga on April 20, 1999 — the day of Columbine. I remember the confusion, the disbelief and the collective sense that something had shifted in America forever. At the time, it was completely unthinkable that children could be gunned down in their school hallways. It was a tragedy. And yet, in the years since, we have seen it over and over again — Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook, Parkland, Uvalde and too many others to name.
What was once unimaginable has become routine. We have asked generations of students to practice for the possibility of being hunted in their classrooms. In fact, we’ve allowed drills, fear and tragedy to become part of the school experience itself. It is the natural consequence of treating the Second Amendment as more sacred than our children.
But it does not have to be this way. It is not too late. And I say this as a liberal Democrat who also believes deeply in the right to responsible gun ownership. Those two truths can coexist. We can pass commonsense legislation that balances constitutional rights with public safety. We can fund mental health programs. We can give teachers more than the impossible burden of being shields for their students.
We cannot keep asking our children (and teachers) to carry the burden of our inaction. Call your representatives. Vote for candidates who will prioritize children. Support organizations working for reform. Speak up, even when it’s uncomfortable. And above all, choose to put more love into the world than hate because that’s the only way we’ll ever change the culture that keeps us here.
Maggie LaBranch Guzman is a parent and attorney. She lives in San Jose.