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Another school shooting. As I sit here, watching the news unfold, listening to reporters dissect the details of yet another tragedy, I feel the weight of it all — pain, fear, anger, disbelief. It’s a scene we’ve witnessed far too often, and yet, we seem to remain trapped in a cycle of shock and reaction. The cameras linger on the aftermath: broken families, shattered schools and communities left scrambling for answers. And somewhere amid the noise and confusion lies a truth too unsettling to face: that a 15-year-old girl, so lost, so broken, felt there was no other way to express her rage and despair.
What happened to her? How did a child become so disconnected, so isolated, so full of hurt and anger that the unthinkable became her choice? In these moments, we focus on the surface, on the “what” and “how,” but we rarely ask the more profound question: Why? Why are so many of our kids struggling with crippling isolation, social anxiety and despair? And more importantly, why do we continue to stand by, wringing our hands, rather than taking action to prevent these tragedies?
We cannot afford to ignore the truth anymore. Our children are drowning — emotionally, socially and mentally — and we’re standing on the shore, reacting only when they go under. This has to change. We need to stop putting Band-Aids on wounds that require fundamental healing. We need to be proactive. We need to address what’s broken in our schools, our homes and our communities.
Our children are not born disconnected. From the time of conception, the stresses of life — of fractured families, of overwhelmed parents, of economic pressure —seep into their world. They grow up in homes where adults are anxious, exhausted and disconnected. They enter classrooms focused on test scores and rules but void of meaningful human connection. And they live in communities where genuine relationships have been replaced by screen time and superficial exchanges.
We must face a difficult reality: Our children are not learning what it means to connect, to belong, to feel seen and supported. Social skills cannot be taught through lectures. Kids need real, lived experiences — they need opportunities to build friendships, to understand empathy and to feel part of something bigger than themselves. Without this, they become isolated. When disconnection festers, tragedy isn’t far behind. We need to rebuild what has been lost. This means more than just reactive measures like metal detectors, safety drills and counseling after the fact. Those things are stopgaps. Necessary, yes, but temporary. What we need is something deeper. Something transformational. We need to rethink how we raise, teach and nurture our children.
Every shooting brings back the tears, the grief, the anger, the frustration we lived through with our students, families and the community following the 2003 ROCORI High School shooting ... memories of sitting with John Jason McLaughlin in the detention center, his life of isolation etched into my soul, and my unwavering promise to him that I would do everything in my power to prevent another child from enduring that same unbearable loneliness.
