“When students feel safe and supported, they are truly reading and able to learn.”
— Laura Weaver and Mark Wilding

One of the aspects of my work in education that I have always valued most—whether as a teacher or an administrator—has been the opportunity to connect with students in informal, authentic ways. Some of my most meaningful moments have taken place not in classrooms or offices, but during lunch in the courtyard, sitting with an entire class, a small group, or even just one student. These moments allowed for genuine conversations, the kind that build trust and create the foundation for strong, supportive relationships.

I recall one such conversation from about a year ago that has stayed with me. As usual, I began with simple check-ins—asking about weekend plans, how school was going, and engaging in light conversation. These exchanges were never trivial to me; they were intentional efforts to ensure students felt seen, heard, and valued.

During that conversation, the student paused and said, “You know what, Mr. Wolfe?” I replied, “What?” He continued, “Our school reminds me a lot of where my dad is right now… with everything being locked and the high fences. He’s in prison.”

In that moment, my heart sank. I remember the brief pause as I collected my thoughts, realizing the weight behind his words. I responded as compassionately as I could before gently shifting the conversation, but the comment lingered with me long after. It revealed a perspective that many adults may overlook and highlighted a growing concern within education: the perception—and reality—of safety in our schools, both physically and emotionally.

There was a time when schools were widely seen as safe havens—places of refuge, much like Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. For many students, school represented stability, security, and opportunity. While that remains true in many ways, the landscape has undeniably shifted. Since the tragedies at Columbine in 1999 and Sandy Hook in 2012, our nation has witnessed far too many acts of school violence. These events have reshaped how schools operate and how students experience them.

A statement shared on June 19, 2025, by Dan Hodges reflects the gravity of this ongoing reality:
“In retrospect, Sandy Hook marked the end of the US gun control debate. Once America decided killing children was bearable, it was over.”

While blunt, this statement underscores the frustration and urgency many feel. In response to these tragedies, schools have taken significant measures to enhance physical security—installing higher fences, implementing locked door protocols, conducting regular safety drills, employing school resource officers (SROs), and investing in technology to respond quickly to threats. These steps, while necessary, often contribute to environments that can feel restrictive or even intimidating to students, as illustrated by the student’s comparison of school to a prison.

However, physical safety measures alone are not enough. There remains a broader, more complex conversation that extends beyond school walls—including public policy, community responsibility, and preventative measures. While respecting constitutional rights, there is a growing call for responsible gun ownership practices, such as secure storage, regular safety training, and clear accountability. The goal is not restriction for its own sake, but rather the protection of lives—especially those of our children and educators. We cannot allow preventable tragedies to become normalized or dismissed as inevitable.

At the same time, physical safety is only one part of the larger picture. Emotional safety and mental well-being are equally critical components of a student’s ability to learn and thrive. Today’s students often carry significant emotional burdens—challenges stemming from family circumstances, economic hardships, trauma, and the pressures of modern life. These factors do not stay at the door when they enter school; they come with them into classrooms every day.

Educators and school staff do their best to provide support, but the reality is that the demand far exceeds the available resources. School counselors, social workers, and psychologists are often stretched thin, sometimes serving multiple schools and managing overwhelming caseloads. While support groups and counseling sessions are offered, they are frequently limited in time and scheduling, often taking place during lunch or other non-academic periods. As a result, students are forced to choose between receiving emotional support and engaging in social interactions with their peers—both of which are essential for healthy development.

Short, infrequent sessions—such as 20 minutes once a week—are often insufficient to meet the depth of students’ needs. Meanwhile, teachers and staff members step in wherever they can, but they, too, face increasing demands and expectations.

To truly address this issue, we must invest more intentionally in mental health resources within our schools. Dedicated student services teams should be available full-time, five days a week, at every campus. These teams could provide consistent counseling for students and families, facilitate timely referrals to outside services, and ensure that support systems are responsive rather than reactive. By strengthening these resources, we can begin to close the gap between need and access.

Ultimately, if we are to create environments where students can genuinely learn, we must remember a fundamental truth often summarized as “Maslow before Bloom.” Students’ basic needs—safety, belonging, emotional well-being—must be met before they can fully engage in academic learning. When students feel secure, supported, and understood, they are not only more capable of learning—they are empowered to thrive.

Our responsibility, then, extends beyond instruction. It is about creating schools that are not only physically safe, but also emotionally nurturing; not only structured, but also compassionate. Our children deserve nothing less.