Mandate active-shooter training
“Time to go into the fishbowl,” a student joked to his friends. The group marched past my front desk and into a room with glass walls that looked into the University Center entrance.
Being both a student and personal assistant at the time, I heard all of the good-natured nicknames — fishbowl, tank, bubble — for the classroom in this office suite at Arizona State University.
It was funny. The classroom hadn’t existed when I was a freshman, so I never experienced being in the middle of a discussion and having tour groups gawking through the glass.
I never experienced it, that is, until the office staff underwent active-shooter training. Suddenly, the vulnerability and a potential reality outweighed all humor.
Until American society adequately addresses whatever the deep-rooted issue is that results in mass shootings, universities and colleges should make active-shooter-response training mandatory for students and staff.
The situation may be rare and unlikely, but that doesn’t mean one cannot be prepared.
When my colleagues and I sat through a short video that depicted steps for different scenarios, it was both interesting and chilling.
The main takeaway was that your response system will slow down.
So get away from the situation. If you can’t get out, hide.
It seemed straight forward, until small details — so easily overlooked in a state of panic — were listed:
❚ Turn off lights.
❚ Barricade the door.
❚ Spread out.
❚ Silence phones.
❚ Try to breathe.
❚ Be. Quiet.
When the video ended, my colleagues and professors eagerly engaged the officers in conversations about specifics, such as what happens with certain types of weapons and what to tell students.
But something was gnawing at my mind, so I had to ask.
What would happen if we were in the back offices where the ability to see, let alone hear, things across the suite was impossible?
If we were in the conference room in the back, where the closest exit would be barred if a shooter stood in the way?
A moment of silence met my questions as the officer nodded slowly, digesting the notion and working to find the best words.
He reiterated the advice about barricading doors, hiding behind overturned tables or else standing in different corners of the room to prevent becoming one mass target.
Making a mental note of all of this, I asked again: What would happen if we were in the back offices and the barricade didn’t work. Could we get out?
Another silence. With a hard stare, the message was repeated, “Your best bet would be barricading. If not, well, it’s hard to say ... you could attack as a group ... but escape would be unlikely.”
Since I was in high school, school security has been a visible reality. Lockdown drills were held as regularly as fire drills.
In addition to security guards at entrances and exits, officers with drugsniffing canines regularly swept the halls and parking lot throughout the semester.
Those practices don’t really translate the same way in college. Security is definitely present, but the sheer size of a campus and number of people — especially if it’s a public university — make control a challenge.
Additionally, being in a mass shooting is not limited to being in a school. Whether it’s at a festival, theater, baseball game or even a newsroom, the unexpected should be expected anywhere.
That does not mean society should accept gun violence as “the norm.” To the contrary, this polarizing, multifaceted issue needs to be addressed via a bipartisan effort. Effectively communicating disagreement with a common goal of reaching a solution is much-needed skill to be remembered.
Until then, though, mandating safety training for what could happen in an active shooter situation is not only crucial.
It’s life-saving.