Twelve years ago this month, the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, claimed the lives of 20 children and six educators. I was in kindergarten at the time and have no memory of the event.
About a year later, as a first grader in public school, I experienced my first (and only) “active shooter lock-down drill.” That’s what I remember my teacher calling it. I don’t know if there was a more politically correct, less frightening official name.
One day before the drill, my teacher explained the procedure: classroom doors would be locked, lights turned off. I don’t know what happened in the classroom during the drill, though, because I had gone to the water fountain right before it started.
When I returned to my classroom, the door was locked, and I could not get inside. My teacher saw me in the hall, and when she came to get me, she somehow locked us both out of the classroom, all my classmates inside, without their teacher.
She rattled the classroom door, but it would not unlock.
With the alarm echoing in the hallway, my teacher grabbed my hand and ran us to the gym, which was across from our classroom. By the time we got to that door, she was crying, clearly shaken and upset. I don’t remember being scared that day, but I remember my teacher was, even though it was only a drill.
It was a long time before I appreciated why.
In twelve years, when it comes to school gun violence, we have moved from national shock and outrage to resigned indifference.
After Sandy Hook, there were calls to end school shootings. “Enough is enough,” parents, teachers, administrators, educators, and even some politicians cried. But as I reflect on the last twelve years of my education, it’s clear that the real legacy of Sandy Hook is indifference.
Sandy Hook made national headlines. Today, school shooting incidents aren’t even guaranteed to make it beyond local news. In early December the shooting of UnitedHealthCare’s CEO dominated the news, but the shooting of two kindergarteners at a school in Northern California didn’t move beyond local reporting.
In twelve years, when it comes to school gun violence, we have moved from national shock and outrage to resigned indifference.
Data is hard to find. How many school shootings have there been in the last twelve years? It depends on whom you ask. It depends on how you define a school shooting.
The K12 School Shooting Database is a privately run, open-source data collection site that documents when a gun is fired, brandished, or a bullet hits school property. The site has been tracking data since the 2018 school shooting in Parkland, Florida, and has compiled data dating back to the 1970s.
Since 2012, the year Sandy Hook happened, school shootings have increased. According to the K12 School Shooting Database, there were 20 school shootings in 2012; there were 349 in 2023. A seventeen-fold increase and yet school violence was not even a discussion point in this year’s presidential election.
The school shooting crisis has become a battleground for political ideologies. Growing up in the shadow of Sandy Hook, the debate about gun control has felt like a never ending tug-of-war between advocates for stronger regulations and those defending Second Amendment rights.
As I move toward the end of my high school career, all I feel about this topic is disgust. The lack of practical solutions or interventions since Sandy Hook reveals an abject dereliction of duty from our political leaders—on both sides of the aisle.
The tragedy of Sandy Hook, which shocked the nation, no longer carries the same weight. Now events are quickly forgotten in a news cycle dominated by other crises. Calls for action barely rise above a murmur.
I am privileged to attend a school where I feel safe. But the truth is, school safety shouldn’t be a privilege, but a right for every student in this country.
