Until Then, We’re the Security System

Yes, we need gun control. We have needed it for decades. Since the Supreme Court says we can’t ban the weapons, perhaps we should ban the bullets or put high taxes on them and make them very expensive.  

I am pessimistic about Congress passing stricter gun laws. Outrage and anger is appropriate after horrors like the school shooting in Connecticut, the movie theatre shooting in Colorado, the Virginia Tech shooting, the Wisconsin temple shooting – you see the reason for my pessimism.

And while some schools (and shopping malls, movie theaters, and grocery stores) may create airport-like security check points, I am not sure that will be a viable or popular solution. I most certainly don’t want to see teachers (or anyone else) carrying weapons or armed guards outside of schools. The answer to gun violence is not more guns.

I have sent emails to my senators asking, point blank (pun intended), what they are going to do to prevent these events from happening. I have signed online petitions. Perhaps this time, it will be different.

Perhaps.

Until the political cost is high enough, our politicians won’t act. In the mean time, we need another approach. This issue is in our hands. How democratic.

So what do we do? First, we open our eyes and really see each other; we look beyond our boundaries and see the people with whom with share our communities. This doesn’t mean we become spies or snitches, quite the reverse. We reach out. We invite in. We ask, “What can I do to help?” and then we do it. Perhaps we do it before we ask.

As we walk the dog, ride the train, shop in the grocery store, or drop off our children at school, we greet people. We talk to people. We go beyond the superficial and connect. We reach across social lines and talk to new people. We build real and significant relationships and communities.

We can form alliances in our neighborhoods. We can take small and large political action. We can keep this issue from fading into the background until another terrible incident. For example, I wonder what would happen if the “buzz book” school directory had the option to put “weapon free” next to the listing for each home. What message would that send?

Granted, this people based security system is not perfect and will not completely protect our loved one. Neither will the doorbells, cameras, and locks on our children’s schools. This is a supplement. It is one more layer of coverage.

“But I do that! The people in Newtown probably did that, too! It didn’t help them! That isn’t enough.” True, it isn’t enough. We need a country where the mentally ill have better access to healthcare than they do to weapons, and where there is not only a human safety net but also a legal safety net to prevent catastrophes like these mass murders. Regulating or banning weapons would be a good start.  

In the meantime, we must rely on each other.  It is up to us. 

Ageless Apples

A student brought me an apple on my first day at Deerfield High School. It was not just any student. It was a senior varsity football player in my Beginning Acting class. I was twenty-two years old and the youngest teacher in the building. This young man was not only physically bigger than me, he was confident and comfortable. I was new and nervous.

I saved that apple. It sat on my desk and later I put it in a bell jar. I still have it.

Last week, I was at a restaurant with friends and that student stepped out of a booth. He looked at me and I looked at him. It was a wonderful moment. I remembered his name and he began to talk about our class. He remembered far more than I did. I was amazed. I was delighted. It was a marvelous moment and a beautiful gift.

Here we were, twenty-seven years later, talking about our experience together. We are only four years apart in age. His family was with him and much of mine was there. He wants visit his old high school and sit in on my theatre class. I hope he does.

I floated back to my table after our conversation. This is the gift that alumni give me. These brief glimpses into my students' post high school lives are special moments of memory and meaning. They may be the one of the best perks of being a teacher: seeing my students all grown up.

This is one of the reasons I enjoy Facebook. Although I often wish my students wouldn’t graduate, I know that is selfish. My job is help them develop skills so they don’t need me any more. Then they move on. That is how it should be.

But I miss them. I was walking down the hall and I saw a girl far away. For a moment, I thought it was a student from my homeroom. Then I realized she was at college. I had just hoped it was her.

After I left the restaurant, I went to a Shabbat service. One the congregants brought a guest: another former student! She is now a teacher and has children of her own. Twice in one evening, I got to touch the past by seeing the future.

Students stop visiting the high school when they graduate from college. It is rare to have older students visit. However, many of my former students are moving back to Deerfield with their spouses and children. Some are old enough to have kids in high school. It won’t be long until I have a former student’s child in class. That makes me feel old and really good.

I will not see a majority of my former students after they leave high school. I will bump into a handful. I will keep in touch with a few through Facebook or email. A small number have become friends. I have attended many of my former students’ weddings and other special events. I go out for coffee or a meal with several regularly. Most of them call me by my first name now.

The apple in the mason jar looks really ugly. It has not aged well. The kids, on the other hand, are ageless golden apples. They are worth keeping forever. I have faith that those I do not see are productive, happy, and making a difference. Seeing a few of them gives me hope for all of them. And I worry less.