Do any other american high schoolers have intense survivor’s guilt and trauma with school shootings even though they weren’t at your school?
Like. A laser tag place opened geared towards teenagers and it got no business, we tried to enjoy it but when someone pointed a laser machine gun at me and I instinctively dropped behind the nearest wall and reached to turn off my phone I cried, I wasn’t the only one. The announcements system turns on at an unexpected time and everyone holds their breath until they say something besides “locks, lights, out of sight,” nobody even jokingly pops chip bags anymore, a door slammed really loud during a class change and everyone dropped and ran. Everyone cries during drills, even the toughest ranch kids. Every drill comes with a full day of teachers crying and telling us that they love us all so much and will die for us, and every kid in every class looking around wondering who would I die for? Who would die for me? You walk to the bathroom and wonder every second if it happens right now, where will I go? You test supply closet doors to see which ones are unlocked, you memorize which furniture in the teachers’ lounge your English teacher says is light enough to barricade a door with. The fire alarm goes off and nobody moves, instead you wait for gunshots—it a trap? You stand with a group of freshmen and realize that you’re the oldest, you know you’ll have to die for them. You forget your ID tag and worry that now the police won’t be able to tell your parents if you’re safe, or not safe. Your stats teacher has a baseball bat by the door, your math teacher keeps a stapler under each desk to throw, your drama teacher asks who will be willing to stand by the non-locking door with the Shakespearean swords. Your yearbook teacher tells you don’t worry about breaking a camera because you heard about the kids who died holding them. You don’t use the bathroom during classes because you don’t want to be the only target to shoot at. You keep your phone on silent 24/7 because you worry the one time you forget will be when you get your whole US History class killed. You have a snap saved with your class schedule and school and full name to send in an instant to your internet friends so they know if you were on that wing, you have a note saved with the things you want your mom to know and the things you’re sorry for. At the age of 12 I was told I needed to know who I would die for and that it was okay if it was nobody, that was my decision to make. School shootings control us more than adults and non-Americans could possibly imagine and nobody moves to change anything unless we’re actively screaming for it. Have you considered we’re too scared?
The absolute fuck. The fuck did I just read. This sounds like dystopian fiction. The fucking fuck.
It isn’t. This is 100% the reality of all American children - not the ones that live in bad neighborhoods, not the ones that make bad choices, ALL OF THEM.
Welcome to America.
This reminds me of a discussion we had in one of my classes the other day-
My professor was describing how everyone from her generation had the same nightmare of a nuke going off. In they dream they all saw the same mushroom cloud and everything. She said that she didn’t think my generation had a dream like that; one that everyone shared and had
For a while none of us could disagree with her. Until this popped up. I raised my hand and mentioned that everyone I knew had an active shooter dream at one point or another. And Every. Single. Person. Nodded. All of us had that dream. All of us.
Pretty telling, huh?
The mere notion that highschool children might have survivor’s guilt is sickening
