If you’re wondering what the shelf life is for us to care about school shootings, the answer is five days.
On Wednesday, Aug. 27, Annunciation Church in Minneapolis was filled with grade-schoolers to celebrate the first day of school when a shooter opened fire from outside. A 10-year-old boy told reporters, “It was like, shots fired and then we kind of like got under pews. They shot through the stained glass windows, I think, and it was really scary.” He then described how he’d done active shooter drills in school but never in church.
A few weeks ago in Louisville, a woman was shot to death while walking a child to the school bus stop. This followed a shooting at a Louisville bus stop the previous week when shots were fired and, luckily, no one was injured.
Ask yourself how long it takes for you to move on from the horror of schoolchildren being shot at or shot to death before an internet flood of news and social media washes it away: vaccines on hold at the CDC, Gavin Newsom tweeting “good night, grandpa!” at the president, troops on the streets of D.C and heading to Chicago, the great Cracker Barrel logo kerfuffle.
In addition to thoughts and prayers, Republican talking points after a school shooting now include hardening schools (i.e., draconian security measures, like a prison) and that we need to address mental health.
Let’s start with mental health. This year in the Kentucky legislature, Senate Bill 235 was filed, a repeat-filing of 2024’s Senate Bill 13 to temporarily remove firearms from those in a mental health crisis.
Neither bill received a single hearing. Why? Because there was zero public pressure to do so.
Republicans also say that we need to harden schools, but our schools are already hardened. We have armed school resource officers. Doors are deliberately locked. Many have camera surveillance. There are strict lockdown procedures and our kids are required to practice hiding and being silent to save their own lives from a shooter beginning in pre-school.
A school administrator recently described to me how sickening it feels to run these drills, to grab the intercom and yell, “LOCKDOWN, LOCKDOWN, LOCKDOWN” while hearing doors slam and lock and the school building go silent.
Our kids are being terrorized and shot to death in school, in churches, on school athletic fields, and at the bus stop. Consider the absurdity of “hardening schools.” Would a prison-like atmosphere promote the joy of learning? How do you harden a football field on a Friday night? Do we need to cover the stained glass in school churches with bulletproof glass? Shall we design bulletproof cages around the bus stops?
Call your representatives, they say, call your congressman, write to your legislators.
There was a church shooting in Lexington this summer in which two were killed and two seriously injured. On July 21 at 3:42 p.m. I emailed leadership in Frankfort — Senate President Robert Stivers and President Pro Tem David Givens, House Speaker David Osborne and Speaker Pro Tem David Meade — writing in part, “Every year, several gun violence prevention bills are filed in good faith by members of both parties. And those bills never see the light of day because leadership buries those bills, bills that could save lives. James 2:26 — ‘For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.’”
I received no response.
Following school shootings and other mass shootings, Republican lawmakers regularly go on television to say “it’s not the guns, we need to address mental health.” So, why are mental health bills related to gun violence rarely, if ever, considered?
Because House and Senate leadership — not your representative lawmakers — decide which bills get a hearing; leaders at the state level are beholden to the national party; national party leaders are beholden to the gun lobby; and the gun lobby represents gun companies who want to do what? Sell more guns, make more money, donate money to the Republican Party.
This is how government works. This is why elections matter.
The shooting at Annunciation Church in Minneapolis happened on the first day of school, a Wednesday. I emailed my national editor about doing a story, and he said he’d get back to me on Friday. But Friday was the start of Labor Day weekend, so we did not connect until Tuesday morning.
By Tuesday, five days had passed. Tuesday was too late. The news cycle moved on because the American public moved on.
Our time limit for caring about kids getting shot to death in school is five days.
We spent more time and more outrage on the Cracker Barrel logo.
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