School shootings are the devastating symptom of systemic collapses. Ultimately, a society is only as healthy as the violence it creates and fails to prevent.1

The Columbine massacre on April 20, 1999, remains the grim anchor point for the modern era of American school shootings. During my interview with Michelle Markert-Porter, she recalled that she was a senior with just one month left until graduation when the Columbine shooting occurred. Caught in the cafeteria when the gunfire began, she fled upstairs into a science classroom filled with terrified fourteen-year-old freshmen and a teacher. Together, they spent three hours barricaded inside, being forced to watch the news on a classroom television to decipher what was happening just beyond their locked door.

While they survived physically uninjured, the psychological sanctuary of the school environment was permanently shattered. The arrival of the SWAT team, rather than bringing immediate relief, introduced a jarring, highly traumatic confrontation with reality—a stark confirmation that their school had transformed into a war zone.

Decades later, the internal psychological landscape of a survivor does not simply heal; it adapts, often dragging the past into the present through chronic trauma responses. Now a teacher and researcher living in New Zealand, Michelle notes that the somatic memory of Columbine remains deeply embedded. While living in Texas, Michelle recalls that loud noises like a car backfiring could trigger acute post-traumatic stress disorder, insomnia, and nightmares.

This prolonged state of psychological dysregulation is a common thread among those who lived through school shootings. In her doctoral research, which included interviews with eleven Columbine survivors who also chose to enter the teaching profession, Michelle found a pervasive baseline of trauma. Her participants reported chronic hypervigilance—such as arriving at public spaces thirty minutes early to scan for exits or keeping sharp scissors hidden in their desks—alongside deeper systemic struggles like addiction, eating disorders, survivor’s guilt, and the conscious decision by some to never bring children into what they perceive as an inherently dangerous world.

Michelle states, “Resilience doesn’t mean we’re just fine, or that everything’s back to normal. The cost isn’t talked about enough, and the growth is never worth the trauma.”

The Toxic Expectation of Clinical Containment

One of the most insidious developments in modern education is the unspoken expectation that teachers must function as final defensive shields. Michelle’s research exposes a resentment within the teaching community regarding this forced role. Michelle states that educators feel that they are increasingly expected to be hyperaware of psychological red flags, act as frontline behavioral investigators, and ultimately lay down their lives for their students. This structural burden is heavily compounded by the implementation of hyperrealistic active-shooter simulations and lockdown drills. While standard lockdown protocols can be useful for minor crises, Michelle emphasizes that live simulations are damaging and unsupported by data.

Even in New Zealand, where gun violence is rare due to common gun law restrictions, conducting these drills remains a source of immense stress, occasionally causing her to dissociate while students—steeped in a detached, media-driven perception of violence—treat the protocol as a game or act out shooter fantasies.

Forcing teachers to act as both frontline police and mental health clinicians traps them under a difficult burden of care. It forces an educator to simultaneously secure a physical perimeter and contain an escalating mental health crisis marked by homicidal and suicidal ideation—a grueling combination of tactical defense and psychiatric intervention. The burden is made heavier by the persistent political push to arm teachers, a concept that Michelle and her research participants universally reject. Forcing an educator to carry lethal force is not a clinical or logical solution. It is an ideological evasion that demands a teacher prepare to potentially kill someone else’s child, fundamentally destroying the relational trust required to cultivate a healthy holding environment in the classroom.

A Geography of Safety: The Global Contrast

The stark ideological contrast between the United States and the rest of the world becomes clear when observing how different societies manage systemic risk. Having spent four years teaching within the New Zealand education system, Michelle describes an ecosystem characterized by structural openness and a relative absence of ambient fear. In Wellington, school buildings remain physically open, windows are kept unbarred, and students routinely interact with their natural surroundings without the constant psychological threat of an active shooter.

The fundamental difference lies in a simpler reality: the absence of widespread firearm access. While New Zealand contends with its own domestic challenges, including high rates of bullying and a strained mental health infrastructure, these issues do not escalate into catastrophic mass casualty events because the physical means of mass destruction are strictly regulated.

Ultimately, the trajectory of the survivor-teacher reveals that mass violence is a preventable choice rather than an inevitable social reality. While American public discourse around school shootings frequently focuses on complex factors like mental health and media consumption, less emphasis is often placed on exploring the direct impact of firearm availability. Seeing a society operate successfully under a completely different paradigm allowed Michelle to find a sense of clinical hope, confirming that alternative structural models can protect both children and their educators.

We must look with deeper compassion at the impossible weight we have placed on teachers’ shoulders. True school safety relies heavily on fostering deep human connections and enacting thoughtful legislative reforms. Moving beyond a focus on tactical fortifications helps lessen the immense responsibility currently placed on educators to manage a broader societal crisis.