THE AXIOM that "schools are a microcosm of society" is suddenly having a harrowing ring to it. Anyone close to school operations knows that this era of American violence has become woven into the fabric of school life. Our schools have become security complexes, by necessity. But at what cost?
Our children are losing their innocence -- at school of all places, at their safety net, their refuge. If their innocence is cut short when they're young, what can we expect when they are adults?
Sure, all of the security measures undertaken by school administrators make schools safer, and all of us are deeply thankful for these efforts. But we need to ask ourselves what has happened in our society to transform schools from comforting havens to ready-to-serve defense installations.
Teachers and principals throw around terms like "lockdown" as casually as they did "whole language," "new math" or "Sadie Hawkins dance" in a bygone era. Worse, because it is an outward signal of their loss of innocence, is our children's nonchalant references to "lockdown."
Have we forgotten that we're using prison lingo here?
Or have the adults become so accustomed to a defense mentality that we've become insensitive to the loss of the social sanctuary called school?
The job of superintendent of schools never has been easy, and there have always been eras of defining issues. Over the decades, superintendents have had to lead communities through the difficult times of integration, school consolidation, budget deficits and state testing accountability programs. These challenges are far surpassed, though, by the new era of school violence.
Columbine, Sept. 11 and the Washington-area sniper have brought a new level of responsibility to school leaders. Superintendents now carry the grave responsibility of life and death.
School principals have in-depth emergency response plans. Central office officials are convened throughout the year to address simulated emergencies. School personnel are trained in the FBI's threat assessment model.
Is it problematic that schools are now prepared to turn themselves quickly into security installations? That principals regularly receive security memos advising them that students should remain in classrooms in case of attack because bullets lose their momentum when they strike glass? That parents receive tips on counseling their children about terrorism through the school's backpack mail? Or that sports are moved to indoor arenas? Not at all. In fact, we should be pleased and proud that our educators have responded so promptly to this latest need.
But what will we make of this?
It is time for us to stop and assess the causes of this wanton violence -- the school shootings, snipers, 9/11, the Dawson family firebombing, Oklahoma City, etc. These are disasters, but they are not natural disasters. They are man-made. And it is time for us to take responsibility. The answer must lie in a societal solution, a global societal solution.
It's time for us to stop addressing these matters by merely passing on our condolences to the families of the victims, by pledging to ourselves that "we will not forget the lost lives of these heroes," or by saying, as President Bush did in appraising the sniper attacks, "I can't believe this is America."
It is America, and it is our world. If we are to stop this violence, if we are to make ourselves safe, we must do more than catch the latest terrorist.
We must recognize that many people in our country and in the world feel isolated, forgotten and oppressed. Whether it is through religion, our institutions or our leaders, we must create a larger sense of community and caring.
Whether today's schoolchildren are a part of this solution, or their endangerment merely our wake-up call, each one of us must lead our society into a more loving world. And while this is a responsibility that we hold individually, we must be sure, as a society, to strive forward cohesively and with unalterable purpose.
Yes, we should remember the heroes and the victims. But let's remember the children, too.
Mark Blom is general counsel for the Howard County public school system. He lives in Ellicott City.