Feb. 23, 2018
What about those who survive? This question lingers in my mind long after the chaos has ended. When the shooting is over and the blood has dried, what about the survivors? I’m not just referring to those in hospitals nursing bullet wounds, but also the students who witnessed the horror unfold that day—the ones who heard the gunfire, saw the aftermath, and felt the palpable fear that enveloped them. What becomes of them? Are they considered fortunate?
In a school teeming with over 3,000 students and staff, the loss of 17 lives reverberates far beyond those families. It impacts a community, reaching at least 3,000 individuals and their loved ones. How do these kids return to school and reclaim a sense of normalcy? Their “normal” now includes traumas that no child, or even adult, should ever have to endure. The memories will haunt them for a lifetime.
Consider the students whose minds and bodies are still developing, now burdened with the weight of trauma. How many can simply move on with their lives? Could you? I doubt I could. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) can be just as damaging as a bullet wound. But what resources are available for them? Who will provide the necessary therapy for a year, a decade, or even a lifetime? How many will resort to medication for anxiety and depression? How many will turn to alcohol or drugs as a means of coping? How many will succumb to survivor’s guilt, feeling as if they should have been the ones to perish? The teenage mindset often leads to reckless behavior—“If the shooter didn’t get me, nothing can.”
The tragic loss of 17 lives sends ripples across the entire country—affecting kids, parents, and teachers alike. Teachers, who should provide a safe and nurturing environment, are now left grappling with the constant fear of the next incident. My partner, a veteran turned middle school teacher, faces this stress daily. I worry about him, perhaps even more than when he was serving in the military, because teaching is a profession that should feel safe. Yet, with two young children of my own, my heart races every time the phone rings during school hours.
How do survivors navigate their existence in a world where they’re aware that another shooting is inevitable if systemic change doesn’t occur? Even if action is taken, change takes time. It requires altering the beliefs of those who prioritize gun ownership over human lives. But it’s not merely a statistic; it’s 33,000 lives lost annually to gun violence, more than half of which are suicides. This grim reality has yet to spur any significant change. We now face mass shootings in schools, concerts, theaters, and nightclubs. How can survivors forge ahead, conscious that nothing is different and that tragedy may strike again?
We often focus on the victims, the lives lost, the overwhelming tragedy. And yes, it is tragic—so tragic that it feels surreal. The most heartbreaking realization is that it will inevitably happen again. If you don’t yet know someone impacted by gun violence, just wait—it’s only a matter of time before it touches your life or someone close to you.
Let’s also shine a light on the survivors. Let’s explore the emotional toll a mass shooting takes on an entire community and the long-term effects on those children and teachers—five, ten, twenty years later. How many will battle addiction? How many will withdraw from society altogether? How many will need therapy but can’t afford it (because access to guns seems easier than access to healthcare)? How many will struggle to form trusting relationships after their sanctuary became a battleground?
Once the victims have been memorialized and the shooter faces justice, what happens to the survivors? I find myself consumed with concern for them, for my family, and for yours. I have no tidy conclusions or solutions to offer—just a deep worry for the survivors of these tragedies and the societal implications of allowing such events to persist.