How shootings are turning US schools upside down – even where there are no shots fired

On September 5, Michael Bennett stood at Scott M. Ellis Elementary School in Greenville, a rural community half an hour from New York City. The principal greeted the students with fist bumps and a reassuring smile.

One reason he was there was because it was the first day of school. But there was another reason too: a tragedy that struck another small town thousands of miles away prompted him to make his presence known.

One day before classes began in Bennett's district, an event all too familiar in America occurred – another incident of semi-automatic gunfire on school grounds. Two students and two teachers were fatally shot at a high school in a leafy Georgia suburb. Nine other people, mostly students, were injured. Police officers arrested a 14-year-old who is now charged with four counts of murder.

The incident made Bennett think back to a moment that has defined his decades-long career in education. In February 2004, he was preparing to teach social studies at a high school in another small New York City town when a student pointed the muzzle of a shotgun at his chest. As the student pulled the trigger, the assistant principal slammed the gun down and Bennett was shot in the lower leg. Fortunately, no one else was injured. (The student pleaded guilty, served years in prison and has since been released.)

Two decades later, the New York City school board was one of many school district leaders across the U.S. grappling with the recent impact of widespread gun violence on students, families and staff. Longtime school leaders like Bennett have repeatedly seen shootings unbalance the American education system — even in classrooms thousands of miles and several time zones away from the shootings.

In the days and weeks following the Georgia shooting, other schools saw a spate of threats and incidents – a recognizable pattern that often follows incidents of gun violence. The early September tragedy had another major factor: It disrupted the back-to-school season at schools across the country.

Students were arrested in several states. School administrators tightened security measures. A school district a few dozen miles from Bennett's campus canceled classes and extracurricular activities and closed buildings after receiving threatening phone messages.

Such incidents are not uncommon. Everytown for Gun Safety, a group that works to prevent gun violence, recorded 139 incidents of shootings on school campuses in the United States in 2024.

Far from these shootings, it is schools that are feeling the impact. Assessing the credibility of threats, especially viral threats that spread online, has become an increasingly common—and difficult—part of school inspectors and principals' daily lives.

It distracts from the main reason students and teachers are in school in the first place, Bennett said.

“It's hard to learn when you're worried about the threats,” he said. “And it's hard to teach.”

Read more: 6 years after the Parkland shooting, school librarian works hard to make her room the safest

“Challenging times” for school leaders

A week after the Georgia shooting, another school superintendent, Aaron Spence, was grappling with a crisis – a barrage of threats against the schools he oversees in suburban Virginia.

His city's police officers had spent days “tirelessly” following up on leads, tracing their origins and speaking to witnesses. Although none of the potential threats were ultimately deemed credible, Spence knew parents at Loudoun County Public Schools needed two things: First, they needed to hear directly from the superintendent. In an email to families, he acknowledged the “senseless violence” taking place at other schools across America. They also needed to know that any threat, even if it came from children and was meant as a joke, would be taken seriously and investigated.

Above a box of glasses cleaning cloths in Spence's office hangs a note that reads: “They tried to bury us. They didn't know we were seeds.” The news was a pandemic-era gift, he said in an interview last week, from a school board member of his former school district.

“Even though you face certain challenges, you can learn from them and grow from them,” he said, recalling how difficult it was to keep the coronavirus out of the classroom.

Crisis management is part of the job of school superintendents. Aside from the copycat threats that have flooded Spence's district this month, the issue of opioid use has also overshadowed his tenure. A year ago, nearly a dozen students suffered overdoses at one of his schools over several weeks. The district's delay in notifying parents of the cases drew criticism from the state's Republican governor, Glenn Youngkin, who issued an executive order directing Virginia schools to notify parents of a school-related overdose within 24 hours.

Spence wrote in an August message before school started that the district “will continue to work closely with students, families, staff and the community to combat the opioid use epidemic.” A student suffered another non-fatal overdose outside of school before the start of the school year.

But as threats began to circulate following the Georgia shooting, Spence had to turn his attention to educating students and families about violence prevention.

“Just as we learned as children not to yell 'fire' or 'bomb' in the movies, in today's world they simply cannot post or say anything that even hints at an act of violence, as the consequences could be severe,” Spence, along with local police chiefs and the sheriff, wrote in a message to parents on September 12.

Experts estimate that school districts receive tens of thousands of threats each year. The proliferation of social media has only exacerbated this problem: In recent weeks, several students across America have ended up in custody for posts on TikTok and Instagram.

Michele Gay is outspoken about the need for schools to play an active role in safety. Her daughter was one of 26 people killed by a gunman at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut in 2012. She said the most important thing school leaders can do after gun violence – no matter how long ago it happened – is communication. Parents need to know that a plan is in place, she said.

“Avoiding the conversation only increases fear,” she said. “After something like this happens, we need to hear from our leaders.”

Prospective school principals do not let themselves be discouraged

Kevin Lein was in the middle of class when the news about the shooting in Georgia flashed up on his phone.

Many of the messages came from the Principal Recovery Network, which was founded in 2019 for school principals who have themselves been victims of gun violence. Lein was a school principal in Harrisburg, South Dakota, in 2015 when he was shot in the arm by a 16-year-old student for bringing a gun into the schoolyard.

Lein never lost his passion for teaching, however, and now works as a professor at a college in Nebraska, where he mentors aspiring school leaders. When information about the Georgia shooting began trickling in in early September, Lein spoke to his students about it. Although some were afraid of the prospect of facing gun violence on campus at some point, fear did not stop any of them from wanting to become school leaders. It gave them hope.

“They're not afraid for their lives,” he said. “They're afraid of not moving forward and doing something about it.”

Zachary Schermele reports on education and current news for USA TODAY. Reach him via email at [email protected]. Follow him on X at @ZachSchermele.

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: How school shootings are turning schools upside down — even where there are no gunshots