Bethany Erickson: The difficult conversation I had with my fifth-grader

Yesterday was hard. And I, like every parent, had to figure out how to explain to my fifth-grader what happened in a school just like his, while still processing it myself. The whole drive to the carpool lane yesterday, I thought about my son’s typical school day. I thought about the video his music teacher, who only sees them once a week, sent parents on Monday: his class proudly played “Beauty and the Beast” on keyboards as she recorded their remarkably not terrible final performances of the year. I was also keenly aware that this wasn’t the first time we’ve talked about gun violence at school. In fact, as I prepared to write this, I went back through my old files and found a note from seven or so years ago. “My 4-year-old knows how to hide from a shooter. He learned it at school,” I wrote. “My tiny person knows that if a ‘bad stranger’ comes, ‘teacher locks the door and we play statues in the closet.’” He told me last night he’s gotten better at hiding since preschool. This is the second time this year alone that we have talked about it, and each time it is just a little more devastating.

Earlier this year, a student brought a gun on the bus that transports both middle school and elementary students. It was briefly at my son’s school, since the bus drops off there. I read the letter from the school as my incredibly tense child sat on the couch next to me. We talked about what to do if someone had a gun at his school, about listening to his teacher and following her instructions carefully. “Ms. Taylor isn’t that big, and she hates fighting. How is she supposed to protect all of us?” he demanded. “I … don’t know. But I know she’d try real hard if she had to,” I said. “That’s brave,” he said. “I get scared too easily. I’m not brave.” “Sometimes it’s braver to admit you’re scared, and ask for help,” I told him. “Can we snuggle on the couch?” he asked. “Today was very anxious for me.” Tuesday afternoon, he asked if he was allowed to have weapons at school after I told him what happened in Uvalde. (We would rather tell him about these things and talk about it than have him hear about them thirdhand at school.) “No, buddy, that would get you kicked out of school,” I said. “Well, if this keeps happening, it’s gonna come to my school eventually,” he said. “What am I supposed to do?”