It Began with Columbine

My children were nine and five years old on April 20, 1999. I knew the world had changed from the time I grew up, but I wanted them to have the kind of childhood I had. They were going to know the simple things; catching fireflies on summer nights, playing capture the flag and kickball in the street with the neighborhood kids, and waking up early on summer mornings just to go outside and feel the dew. By the time my kids were old enough to socialize, in the neighborhood and at school, I noticed a difference between their peers and the kids with whom I grew up. At times, the toughness and meanness they displayed at such a young age surprised me. I felt on edge, probably a little hypervigilant, but I was never sure when one of my kids would come home crying. Still, I remember one shining summer, probably a year or so before Columbine, when summer was the miracle for them that it had been for me so many years ago. The kids all played nicely together, they built forts and skateboard ramps, had kickball tournaments and Kool-Aid stands, and generally kept themselves entertained and on the go all summer long.

And then, Columbine. For me, that tragedy foreshadowed future events, and marked the dawning of a realization that the world was changing in a frightening way. It’s been over nine years since April 20, 1999, and along the way I have gradually become accustomed to all manner of strange, violent, and bizarre events. School shootings have occurred on such a regular basis, they are no longer shocking. In fact, nothing much surprises me these days.

Sometimes I sit with my daughter, who is now 14, and I tell her stories of my childhood. She tells me she wishes she lived then and she talks to me about her troubles, her stresses. Her eighth grade year was miserable, hijacked by a manipulative “friend.” This year in school, she pushes herself unmercifully to keep up with the expectations of her teachers, coaches, and band instructor. She’s not sure she’s pretty enough even though she has blond hair to die for, and I’ve spent thousands on her teeth. She thinks she’s not smart enough although she’s a straight A honors student. My son, now a freshman in college, tells me he saw a kid tasered in the lobby of his dorm on the first day of school. I was shaken; he thought it was no big deal. This is their world now, and I can only hope and pray I’ve prepared them for it.

Much has happened in the nine years since Columbine. That day was my wakeup call-it made me sit up and take notice of what was happening in our world and with our kids. I’m not sure if anything has the capacity to do that now. Redefinition of the so-called “new normal” since 9/11 happens almost daily. I pray my kids will emerge as strong, courageous adults, ready to face the challenges of the future head-on, equipped with the ability to handle stress in a way I never could at their ages. I can only hope so.