17 kids were killed by guns (again), and I can't believe people still have the audacity to say that the solution is MORE GUNS. And then to take their twisted fantasy even further by suggesting that teachers should be armed? So you're telling me that you expect teachers, who have pledged to raise and love and foster our country's most precious assets, to now pick up a gun and potentially shoot one of their own children?
Let me paint the picture for you.
You're there on an idyllic Monday morning, in your 3rd grade class, donned in a sweater vest and loafers (at least you won't trip on your shoelace as you run into the foray), when you hear a shot, or multiple shots, ring out, somewhere in the hallways. You dramatically draw the gun tucked in your khaki pants (just like you've practiced every night in front of the mirror so you can execute it flawlessly when the call finally comes), and heroically rush out the door into the unknown. You have no idea where or whom the shooter is. Another teacher rounds the corner, likewise bravely brandishing a gun, and who, just like you, also doubles as an ad hoc CQB trained hero. You shoot him, because you think that he's the shooter (he's not). Except you miss, because you've never trained on a moving target before, you're shaking from a combination of adrenaline rush and the fact that you haven't finished your morning coffee, and you hit a student that's just behind him. The teacher turns and starts shooting at you, because you have now become the active the shooter. Now because the police in your town have finally decided to take school shootings seriously, they show up within minimal response time. The SWAT team bursts in, see two neatly-dressed active shooters engaged in a valiant blue-on-blue firefight, and kills both of you.
On your tombstone they write, "This could have been prevented by even MORE guns!"
Let me paint the picture for you.
You're there on an idyllic Monday morning, in your 3rd grade class, donned in a sweater vest and loafers (at least you won't trip on your shoelace as you run into the foray), when you hear a shot, or multiple shots, ring out, somewhere in the hallways. You dramatically draw the gun tucked in your khaki pants (just like you've practiced every night in front of the mirror so you can execute it flawlessly when the call finally comes), and heroically rush out the door into the unknown. You have no idea where or whom the shooter is. Another teacher rounds the corner, likewise bravely brandishing a gun, and who, just like you, also doubles as an ad hoc CQB trained hero. You shoot him, because you think that he's the shooter (he's not). Except you miss, because you've never trained on a moving target before, you're shaking from a combination of adrenaline rush and the fact that you haven't finished your morning coffee, and you hit a student that's just behind him. The teacher turns and starts shooting at you, because you have now become the active the shooter. Now because the police in your town have finally decided to take school shootings seriously, they show up within minimal response time. The SWAT team bursts in, see two neatly-dressed active shooters engaged in a valiant blue-on-blue firefight, and kills both of you.
On your tombstone they write, "This could have been prevented by even MORE guns!"
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