I grew up in the 1980s and 1990s when school felt easy. You grabbed your backpack, packed a lunch, and shrugged off any worries beyond the playground gossip. Nobody locked down classrooms or wondered if someone would walk in with a weapon. Tornado drills happened, fire drills happened, and then we went back to algebra.
I feel this in my bones. I’m 42, also grew up in Minnesota, and remember that exact kind of school day—the sound of your boots on the tile floor in winter, the smell of lunch boxes, the clack of lockers, and not a single thought that danger might walk through the front door. The worst we imagined was missing the bus or getting caught passing a note.
What happened at Annunciation this week is horrifying. It’s heartbreaking beyond words. And it’s a shattering reminder of how much has changed. We used to prep for tornadoes. Now our kids prep for trauma. The innocence we carried through those halls isn’t something they get to inherit anymore, and that’s a wound we all carry now—especially here, especially as Minnesotans who remember when it wasn’t like this.