Parenthood

Back to School, With Too Much on Our Shoulders 

mother and daughter walking up stairs

The start of the school year is supposed to be joyful. My son is beginning preschool, and my daughter is starting kindergarten. I’m so excited to watch them learn and grow—to see them figure out new lunch lines, find their way onto the playground, and sound out their very first words. Of course I’m a little anxious, too—will they make friends, feel confident, and be okay without me right there? 

But this year, like too many parents in America, my worry stretches far beyond lunch boxes and reading lists. I find myself holding my breath not just for math tests and playground dynamics, but for their very safety. Because the truth is: part of “back to school” now includes lockdown drills, news alerts about shootings, and the unbearable question none of us should ever have to face: will my child come home? 

The facts are sobering.

  • Depending on how incidents are counted, the U.S. has seen anywhere from 8 to over 140 school shootings so far in 2025—including cases with injuries, deaths, or both.
  • In Minneapolis, during an all-school Mass at a Catholic school on August 27, two young children were killed and 18 others—15 of them children—were injured.
  • Firearms are the leading cause of death for children and teens, with the rate of youth firearm deaths rising by 46% between 2019 and 2021—stabilizing at 3.5 deaths per 100,000 in 2023, amounting to roughly seven children per day killed by firearms. 
  • Exposure is far greater. Between 2020 and 2024, 51 out of every 100,000 school-aged children were exposed to a school shooting, even if they weren’t directly harmed.  

The weight of it all feels almost too overwhelming. Parenting is already a daily act of letting go—sending our kids out into the big, bright world, step by step. But it should never feel like sending them into danger. And yet here we are, stuffing backpacks with hope and love, all the while shouldering fears that don’t belong in childhood. 

As parents, we can’t bear this burden alone. But we can talk—openly, age-appropriately, as honestly as we can muster. We can say they are loved, they are seen, and we are working to keep them safe, without hiding from the hard truth. We can preserve their innocence and nurture their resilience, both. And we can reach out to one another—because no parent should have to carry this fear in silence. 

Back to school should mean sharpened pencils, new friends, shiny backpacks, and the thrill of learning something brave. Our kids deserve that. And as parents, we’ll keep pushing, hoping, and organizing until that is all it ever means. 

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