Crissy Fishbane: A letter to my child about school shootings
To my dearest daughter,
Where should I begin? We are preparing to send you off to kindergarten next year. I’ve always had a vision of how that special day would unfold.
I can see it clearly in my mind’s eye – helping you pack your bookbag, laying out your outfit the night before, discussing what snacks you want in your lunch, and the little smiley face heart I would draw on a sticky note in your lunchbox so you’d know I was thinking of you.
I can picture the walk to the front door of your school on that first day. My enormous sunglasses hiding the tears threatening to pour from my eyes. I know if they start, I won’t be able to stop them. I see you holding my hand, a timid smile on your face. I see the quick hug and kiss on my cheek before you bravely turn away and walk towards your teacher’s outstretched hand.
As we’ve talked about you starting kindergarten more and more over the past year, I’ve played the above scenario in my mind a million times.
What I didn’t anticipate when I began this motherhood journey is the fear I would feel each morning when you leave for school. I didn’t know a rush of anxiety would wash over me every time you venture out into this great big world without me by your side.
I think about the tragedies that happened at Sandy Hook and Robb Elementary Schools and my heart gets heavy. It was terrifying when it happened at universities and on high school campuses. Now these horrific acts are happening at elementary schools.
How can I possibly protect you in a world that won’t protect its most vulnerable institutions and people?
I often find myself thinking about how much we wanted a baby and the pure joy we felt when we first held you in our arms. I did not know I was bringing you into a world in which you would be more likely to die from a gun than in a car accident.
I didn’t think about the fact that:
- As of the day I am writing this, there have been 147 mass shootings in our country so far this year. It’s only April.
- Every day, 120 Americans die at the end of a gun, including suicides and homicides. That’s an average of 43,475 deaths each year. The US gun homicide rate is as much as 26 times that of other high-income countries; its gun suicide rate nearly 12 times higher.
- A CDC student survey found 30% of kids in North Carolina said they could obtain and be ready to fire a loaded gun within an hour – without a parent’s permission.
- So far in 2023 – again, it is only April – there were at least 39 incidents of gunfire on school grounds, resulting in 17 deaths and 30 injuries nationally.
That is 39 incidents too many.
It’s not that I didn’t know these things were happening. Every time another tragic shooting occurs the stories immediately flood our televisions and newsfeeds. Friends post about their heartache and anger, sharing their thoughts and prayers for the families that lost a loved one. Images takes over profile pictures “in memory of” the lives lost. I find myself getting swept up in raw emotion – fear, anger, frustration, and a deep well of sadness that I don’t know what to do with.
But I know thoughts and prayers are not enough.
I do my best to shield you from the stories, and the horror and despair that often overcomes me with each one.
But eventually, it fades.
Life keeps moving. You ask me for pancakes for breakfast, and I have an important deadline at work, and ever so subtly those emotions fade into the background.
Life demands that we keep moving forward.
I recently learned that the first mass shooting took place in 1966 at University of Texas in Austin. Just a few short months after the tragedy, a survivor was interviewed. She said, “it seems like we all just forgot it had even happened.”
Here we are almost six decades later and as a country it seems we continue to forget. After each senseless and tragic loss, we’ve let the unspeakable nature of these occurrences slip from our mind as we continue on with day to day life. We let the travesty fade into the background, only to find our fear and anger reignited when it happens again.
Then as a nation, we proceed to rinse and repeat.
I am sorry, my dearest sweet child. I am sorry that you will now have active shooter drills at school. I am sorry that you will hear these stories and will undoubtedly know someone that has been impacted by a mass shooting. I am sorry that statistically this is something that is more and more likely to have a direct impact on our family in some way.
You deserve better.
You deserve to go to school each day and worry about whether I remembered to cut the crust off your sandwich and who you will play with at recess, not where to hide if your school goes into lockdown because an armed intruder is on school grounds.
You deserve to go to school and laugh with your friends over jokes about bodily functions and feel excitement as you conduct science experiments and learn about ancient civilizations. You should not have to wonder if you will be safe when you enter those school doors each morning.
You should not be made to live in fear.
I deserve better too. I should be able to send you to school each day without questioning whether I should tell you more of what’s happening in the world to better prepare you, or if I should shield you from these horrific stories in order to protect your innocence for as long as possible.
I should be able to send you to school each day without fear gripping my heart and anxiety taking over my mind as I wonder if you will make it home to me alive.
I don’t want to play “what if?” every morning.
What if something happens?
What if I can’t be there to protect you?
What if it’s your school next time?
What if it’s you?
I can’t imagine the pain. I can’t imagine the grief and loss and heartache. I can’t imagine the anger and despair.
I pray it is something I will never experience.
I pray it is something no parent, no child, will ever experience again.
But I know that’s not how the world works. Prayers will not change this situation. Holding you tight will not fix this social travesty in which parents send their kids to school each day knowing that they are more likely to die by gun than in a car.
Only we can change this situation.
I hope it doesn’t fade this time. I hope the despair that unfurls itself across the country after each inconceivable tragedy leaves an indelible imprint on our hearts and minds. With every mass shooting that occurs in America, I hope the heartache and anger continues to boil to the surface. I hope we finally reach a tipping point in which we demand change from our elected officials and finally take decisive action as a nation, for the sake of our children.
For you.
You deserve it.
Love,
Your scared, yet hopeful, mother
Crissy Fishbane is the co-founder of HER Health Collective, a supportive community and resource hub for moms. She is a certified therapeutic exercise specialist, personal trainer, wellness coach, and former high-school psychology teacher. Crissy believes in a holistic approach to women’s health and is a strong advocate of improved screening and treatment of perinatal mood disorders. She is passionate about building a supportive community for moms where they can make genuine connections and build authentic relationships. Crissy is a regular Go Ask Mom contributor.
