kiss kiss, bang bang.

a thick, black, smoke streams from beneath the high school gym. with flashing lights and sirens wailing, fire trucks surround the scene to douse the hidden flames with water. area secured and firey-threat quashed, it becomes clear that a mattress had been placed in a shower and set ablaze. exciting.

in the calm midst of post-lunchtime classes, a loud boom echoes through the hall. a light smoke quickly pervades the lower floor of the high school building, and students are evacuated by the pulsating shrieks of a fire alarm. a quick survey of the scene by firefighters and police officers reveals that a section of un-designated lockers has been blackened by soot, its frames bent out of shape. a bulged locker door laying at rest on the opposite side of the hallway sugests a powerful firework, possibly an m-80 or m-100, had been detonated within the locker. disturbing.

at some point in the middle of class, the instructor leads the class outside to the bleachers alongside the football field, on the opposite corner of the school grounds. the rest of the school either appears to have arrived, or are in the process of arriving. instructors pace and students space, as it seems an unplanned rally has just been called. the principal and assistant principals mouth words into walkie-talkies, while students pay no attention to what is being said, opting to discuss amongst themselves, whether it would be possible to duck out and leave; other play cards on the benches or listen to headphones. as seconds become minutes and become hours, word speads that the main building is on lock-down after a bomb threat was phoned into the office. students were to be escorted to a location as far away from the building as possible and kept from wandering too close. professionals are brought in to sweep the school, and after a search the threat is diffused and students are permitted to return to class and finish the day. tedious.

in the light of the deadliest campus shooting, and in the shadow of the deadliest high school shooting, it is that clear that schools are not safe places, nor are they required to be. schools as public institutions are as safe as the street, the store, the office, and anywhere else the public can gain access. even as private or exclusive institutions, where only members can enter, they are as safe as the members themselves, as the home or the clubhouse, and in some instances even the street can be safer than within the home. schools are simply forums for an exchange of ideas and behaviors, irregardles of safety, and even behaviors and ideas in some cases, can be the most dangerous of all, if not to others, than to the self.

during periods following tragic spontaneity, using the "what ifs" and "could haves" of 20/20 hindsight to cast blame retards progress. in the least it offers the distraught and befuddled a scapegoat at which to focus anger, inquiry, or any other sense-of-mind during an otherwise senseless and chaotic aftermath of time. so far, it seems school shootings and office massacres have been the result of deranged individuals, who have been normal, decent, human beings at some point in their lives, before developing an anger towards an aspect or aspects within the society and/or people around them.

in hindsight it is pointless to fetter out what made these individuals crack, what the warning signs were, and since each individual is different, finding an answer to these questions, if it is even possible, would vary randomly from person to person. schools will never be safe places, and the preposterous metal detectors installed in some turn schools into prisons. nevertheless, schools are hardly places to fear, nor streets, offices, stores, and homes. our greatest fear should be to overreaction, and while we have all felt ourselves near a mental and/or emotional breaking point, we calm down just enough to keep ourselves from going into the deep end - from doing something irrational. it is this ration to prevent overreaction, which upholds sanity, and while the actions of others, either in schools, or on the roads, or in our homes, may push us to the edge, it is still always our responsibility to keep from turning into monsters ourselves.

some of these people need ten years of therapy -
ten sentences of mine do not equal ten years of therapy.
: wilde.