In response to calls for substantial gun reform in the wake of the Parkland Shooting, the NRA and Trump administration have called for “hardening” our schools by arming teachers to respond to school shooters. The following is a first-person narrative of what a day in that future school could look like:

My alarm goes off. Walk downstairs, make breakfast, eat it, walk back upstairs. Take a shower, dry off, brush my teeth, get dressed. Head downstairs, finish packing get ready to head to school. Wait. I forgot my 9mm. Better pack that. You can never be too careful. Grab my car keys, drive to school.

Park. Grab my backpack, walk to the building. Like any responsible person, drop my handgun off in a bin before going inside. It’s called safety, folks. Walk to my first class, AP Lang. Today, we’re discussing community. It is, after all, what connects us. The teacher refuses to carry a gun. They’ll probably fire him for disregarding our safety. Learned some stuff, the bell rings.

Scurry down the hallway, head down, eyes on the ground, I’ve memorized the route by now. We’re headed to AP US History, and we’re learning about World War Two. Hitler and Stalin took guns away from their citizens, and look what happened. Something about the US gun violence rate being higher than any first world country…yada yada, the bell!

Dash to the cafeteria, open backpack, pull out lunch. Eat lunch without starting anything controversial, never know what kind of “accident” could happen. Avoid eye contact, finish lunch, make small talk, look at my phone. Shuffle out of cafeteria towards next class.

Mathematics. We have a sub. He proudly displays his holster. Time to take notes. Midway through learning about logarithms, the sound of gunfire. An open shooter! The sub steps out of the classroom and pumps the shooter with iron. Thank goodness for the good guy with the gun. Class resumes. No fatalities, so no going home early.

Time for Beaver Lodge. I got my planner signed, and I’m ready to leave. Announcements happen. It’s 1:10. Time to go. Work my way out into the hallway. I walk with confidence. The day’s almost over.

There’s a shooting pain in my back. I hear the sound: more gunfire coming from behind. I feel faint and fall to the ground. I cry out, “If only there was some way to prevent this!”