By Charlie Burns, Kyri Antholis, Susannah Birle, Connor Jackson, and Anabel Simpson
Recently, a racist online comment threatening many of our peers at Charlottesville High School with an “ethnic cleansing” closed all city schools for two days. While some students brushed the threat off as a joke and went back to school on Monday without a second thought, others struggled to focus on classwork, and dozens of students joined a walkout organized by the Black Student Union. For many, it was a moment to consider our own role in the community, as both activists and students.
A few of us on the staff of the Knight-Time Review, the CHS newspaper, were given the opportunity to interview Jaclyn Corin, 18, a survivor of the Parkland, Florida, school shooting and a major organizer of the March for Our Lives protest and Never Again movement against gun violence. She’s coming to town on Tuesday to headline the Tom Tom Festival’s Youth Innovation Summit, just a few weeks after another Albemarle teen threatened to shoot up Albemarle High School.
In talking to Corin, we were moved by her courage in coping with the tragedy in her hometown, and her ability to create action out of her experiences. Her tenacity is especially inspiring for us as students still reeling from the threat of racially charged violence. In her eloquence and insight when speaking on gun control, school safety, and mental health, Corin reminded us that we, as students, can influence society and create change.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
C-VILLE: In Charlottesville, obviously, we’ve had a lot of tension in and out of our school since August 12. What advice would you give to student activists on how to build on media attention and create real change as a teenager?
JACLYN CORIN: That’s a packed question! In regards to the media attention, I would say consistency is key. If you’re constantly doing actions and protests and event building with communities, the local news will pay attention. And it’s also about relationship building with local media and with other organizations that might have more clout in the community.
And in regards to just overall advice to teenagers who want to get involved, the first step is that of course one individual has so much power but there’s even more power within a group of people that share a similar desire and the same hunger for change. So I would urge all teenagers to start having conversations about what’s going on in their community, what they want to see changed, and go from there.
What inspired you to found Never Again and March for Our Lives, and what were the stages in building that?
The day after the shooting, I had this immediate urge to do something productive with my time. I realize now that my activism was my coping mechanism. It was the way that I would distract myself after experiencing the unimaginable. And it was really just about not wanting anyone else to have to experience the feelings that I was feeling and that so many families in that community were feeling.
That’s kind of why my immediate action was to organize a lobbying trip up to the capital in Tallahassee. And by the next day I was doing interviews. I was being very active, because I knew that a lot of people weren’t ready to do that and I wanted to make sure that the media wasn’t creating a story for us, that we were telling our own story.
We were really reflecting on how the country reacted after Sandy Hook, and…that nothing really happened after that. We wanted to make sure that something happened after this shooting. And that kind of led us to saying okay, we have to not only mobilize our community but mobilize the entire country against this issue, because it has gone on long enough.
And, you know, we continued after the march by connecting with a bunch of local organizers, registering tens of thousands of voters, having conversations with people that both agree and disagree with us. And we’re still working a year later, building a huge chapter network of youth organizers and pushing legislation.
How has Parkland changed as a community?
Parkland was the safest community in Florida, and I was so, so privileged to live in a community where I could walk down my street and feel safe and not have to worry about the possibility of getting shot. After [the shooting] there’s always this feeling of uncertainty, of, you know, not being safe. And this tragedy not only traumatized the 3,000-plus people that were in school that day, it also directly affected the family members and friends.
What’s so difficult, and what people often forget, is that a lot of places shootings occur can be avoided, but we can’t avoid school. We now have to walk past the building where it occurred every single day.
I think we always reflect on how lucky we are to be alive, and on moving forward to ensure that it doesn’t happen again.
What do you think would be the most effective way for schools now to ensure that students are safe at school, until [gun control] legislation and policies are changed?
The biggest thing I think schools can do to support their students is to do preventive health care measures, meaning actually having mental health care providers in schools and not just guidance counselors who do scheduling, and educating students on where they can go for that support. Mental health is just as important as physical health.
And also I just want to emphasize we need to make sure that we don’t put metal detectors in our schools, [police] in our schools, because that doesn’t do anything except make students feel unsafe, and increase the school to prison pipeline. There’s so many situations that show that a good guy with a gun does not always stop a bad guy with a gun.
You’re not just a high school student anymore, you’re an activist—how do you balance that?
It’s definitely a weird experience. March for Our Lives was the first thing I thought about, every day, and I started to burn out a little bit, and then I understood that I need to make time to be a normal teenager, because that’s what I need to do for self-care. Because I also have a lot of trauma that weighs me down every single day.
There’s also level of celebratizing, and I want to make sure we always share our platform. We experienced gun violence in Parkland one day in our lives, and there are people who experience it every day in their communities. There’s a lot we need to keep doing to make sure that they’re being amplified and everyone understands that gun violence is not just mass shootings.
What change have you seen, and do you feel optimistic about the future of gun control legislation in this country, or frustrated by the lack of action?
We’ve seen dozens of state laws be passed that align with the March for Our Lives mission and will help save lives, but unfortunately we haven’t seen a lot of action on the federal level. [But] I am very optimistic. Just yesterday, I went to a hearing in D.C. around extreme risk orders [preventing people at high risk of harming themselves or others from accessing firearms.] The most encouraging thing is these conversations are happening.
At the same time, we need to make sure we keep up the pressure because this is not something that can be swept under the rug, it’s urgent. Every day over a hundred people lose their lives, and 40,000 people annually lose their lives to gun violence.
It’s definitely a difficult thing to understand this is going to take a while, but we have organizers all around the country that are pushing for legislation in their states and we have to make sure we keep calling out legislators and making sure they’re actually listening to their constituents.
The lights were off and the door was locked in Shreya Mahadevan’s fourth-grade classroom at Johnson Elementary School. Small bodies huddled quietly behind a wall of backpacks—their teacher in tears.
“It was really scary. Petrifying,” says the 9-year-old girl about the lockdown her school was under last October, when a man in nearby Johnson Village was on the run after a reported burglary and sexual assault.
But as she huddled near the backpacks, and then ducked behind a bookshelf for cover, she didn’t know why—she just knew it felt different than the drills she’d been practicing.
“It’s not scary if we’re having a drill,” says Shreya. “It just makes you feel like you know what to do when something happens.”
Pausing for a moment, she corrects herself: “If something happens.”
Across a small table in a Charlottesville coffee shop sits her sister, 20-year-old Samyuktha, an Albemarle High School graduate, who says young people have come to expect violent activity in schools. And they aren’t shocked anymore when it makes headlines.
She refers to the May 18 shooting at Santa Fe High School in Texas, where a maniac with his father’s pump-action shotgun and .38-caliber revolver murdered eight students and two teachers, where he wounded 13 others, and where surviving students immediately told reporters outside the crime scene that they weren’t surprised it happened.
“I think the expectation of violence has increased,” says Samyuktha, a rising senior studying international relations at the College of William & Mary, who notes increased awareness of violence in schools over the past year. And while that certainly doesn’t only equate to on-campus firearm fatalities, a quick search turns up 34 school shootings during the most recent academic year that resulted in 50 deaths and double the injuries.
School security systems
“Safety is always top-of-mind for school administration,” says Kim Powell, an assistant superintendent for Charlottesville City Schools. “I think what’s changed is the context we have to think about safety in.”
Powell says schools are still one of the safest public places to be, and with mass media attention given to instances of school violence, “I think it changes people’s situational awareness.”
Local schools use a threat assessment approach, where teachers and faculty are trained to attend to students who show higher levels of concern.
“If a student is showing signs of not being comfortable or acting differently, staff are trained to reach out and find out what’s going on,” says Powell.
As the administration is gearing up to go back to school, Powell says the conversations around safety have weighed heavily in three areas: processes, plans, and procedures; climate and culture; and the physical safety of the facilities.
Albemarle County Public Schools spokesperson Phil Giaramita says a new committee of students, senior staff, and community advisers will meet quarterly to evaluate safety practices and advise the county superintendent and school board.
At Woodbrook Elementary School, which is under renovation, there’s an opportunity to test a new electronic entry card system for teachers and administrators. County schools will also spend $160,000 this year to expand mental health services, including a pilot program to staff a Region Ten counselor at the middle school level. That person will work through in-school and at-home issues with students.
Schools can’t disclose their safety plans for obvious reasons, but many other security measures exist in Charlottesville and Albemarle County classrooms, including the following at various schools*:
County schools:
-All classroom doors lock from the inside
-Protective coating on door windows
-Blinds or shades for all windows
-Controlled entrances prevent direct access to hallways and classrooms
-Security screening for visitors
-Security cameras at schools and on buses
-Safety drills
-Armed and unarmed school resource officers
City schools:
-Various schools have buzz-in systems at front doors
-Interior doors route visitors through main offices
-Security screenings for visitors
-Threat assessment teams at all schools
-Surveillance cameras
-Lighting upgrades
-All classroom doors lock from the inside
-Safety drills
-Armed and unarmed school resource officers
*Provided by school spokespersons Phil Giaramita and Krissy Vick
“At this point, it’s not shocking,” says Samyuktha. “It’s more frustrating. I mean, sadness is probably the first emotion that comes out because it’s terrible to know that even more families and individuals have been affected.”
And, says 14-year-old Aidan O’Brien-Olwell, “The real fear behind this is it’s random.”
He was at Buford Middle School during the lockdown that scared Shreya and her schoolmates at Johnson Elementary. The Cherry Avenue schools were the only two that battened down the hatches during that event.
While he says it was “worrying,” he mostly remembers the confusion, and says he was in gym class when teachers instructed students to leave the gymnasium and hide in the locker room.
The then-eighth grader says it seemed like a “weird choice. …Why take us out of the large gym with many different entrances and exits to the cramped, small room with one entrance and one exit?”
Unlike Shreya’s, his teachers shed no tears, but did appear concerned and perplexed. “They were confused, just as much as we were,” he says.
O’Brien-Olwell will enter Charlottesville High School this month, but when he walked the halls of his middle school, he says safety was often on his mind.
“I mean, now, you kind of have to think about it,” he adds. And while he did generally feel safe at Buford, and thinks the lockdown protocols are mostly well-designed, he adds, “There is one area that everyone worries about.”
Translucent glass walls line the school’s science hallway, which O’Brien-Olwell says would make it hard to hide from someone peering in, and would be easy to break into. “You can see everywhere in the room. Students were the first to point it out, and realized this is the worst possible place to be.”
In today’s climate, these are topics of casual conversation for middle schoolers.
“We have had many conversations like that,” O’Brien-Olwell says, adding that the discussions are heightened in the days surrounding lockdowns and major media attention for “stuff like this.”
He goes back to the first word he used to describe that kind of “stuff,” which was “random.”
“I know I can set up a boundary between myself and the other crimes—those crimes aren’t really random,” he says. “Like I know I’m not in a gang, I know I’m not involved with drug violence, so I can kind of set up a mental boundary against the fear of something like that. But this? There’s just no way to exempt yourself from the possibility.”
When he hears about more kids who died at their schools, he feels “very upset that that could have been anyone. I could have just been unlucky in the wrong school that day.”
And while children are aware of the grim possibility, parents are perhaps even more conscious of sending their kids off to places where they know that type of violence can happen. When Priya Mahadevan waves goodbye to her daughter, Shreya, every morning, she no longer tells her to have fun at school. Now, she says she tells her to be safe.
“That’s not the kind of message you want to send,” says Priya. “It was not an issue when my older daughter was going to school. We were never scared that someone was going to walk down the school corridors and shoot people up. That was never on my mind.”
Now? “It has become much more of a reality for us.”
Boots on the ground
Priya leads the local chapter of Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America, which started as an intimate group of about 10 parents who were ready to advocate for common sense gun laws last fall, and who “were actually caught literally off guard” in February, when about 150 people showed up to a call for new members.
This was in the wake of the Valentine’s Day massacre at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, which left 17 students and faculty dead, and the same amount injured. It was the shooting that changed the conversation.
“It’s a movement,” Priya says, describing an unprecedented reaction of anger and frustration within our community, where people found her group in an effort to advocate for immediate change. “We were not able to give them the Band-Aid solution that they really wanted,” she adds.
And that’s because there isn’t one. Affecting real change takes time, and that’s what Moms Demand Action aims to do—to continue the conversation on common-sense gun laws, to keep weapons out of the hands of known felons, domestic abusers, and people with dangerous mental illnesses, she says.
“We are not partisan, we’re not against the Second Amendment,” says Priya. “We’re just saying we want to keep our communities and children safe, and basic laws need to be in place.”
Several Moms Demand Action members met with Senator Creigh Deeds on August 16.
His platform aligns with the activist group’s in that he is against bump stocks, which make semi-automatic weapons shoot almost as fast as fully automatic machine guns, and he is for universal background checks for potential firearm purchasers.
Deeds, who was stabbed in the face and chest in November 2013 by his mentally ill son, who then shot and killed himself with a shotgun, “is opposed to seeing assault weapons in the hands of people [in which] they do not belong,” says Priya.
“He also said he would be willing to work with us on other legislative proposals for common sense gun laws,” she says.
On July 10, a delegation of five members of the local activist group, including Priya and her oldest daughter, Samyuktha, met with Democratic Delegate David Toscano to discuss gun control and school safety.
Toscano, along with Republican delegates Rob Bell and Steve Landes, are members of the state’s House Select Committee on School Safety, a 22-person bipartisan group that formed after the Parkland shooting and exists to find ways to make schools safer.
Toscano criticized the committee in a May 10 newsletter, where he said, “The Parkland shootings vividly reignited the gun safety debate all over America, including our Virginia House of Delegates. Republican and Democratic delegates, however, responded quite differently.”
He calls the safety committee’s focus “narrow,” and says the committee has been specifically instructed by House Speaker Kirk Cox, a retired teacher, not to discuss arming teachers, which was advocated by the president, or the broader issue of gun safety.
Priya mentions that Bell, the committee chairman, has a lifetime ‘A’ rating by the National Rifle Association, “so you see how it plays into such important issues being skirted around,” she says.
The first meeting, Toscano says, suggested that the group’s recommendations will likely focus on physical changes that can be made to schools, such as entrance control, locks in classrooms, and safety glass, and mental health counseling and conflict resolution for students.
Says Priya, “That is like turning a blind eye to the glaring problem at hand, which is guns, especially in the hands of the wrong people.”
Toscano also noted in a July Facebook post that his Subcommittee on Student Behavior and Intervention heard from UVA professor and national expert Dewey Cornell that the threat of deadly violence is much higher in many spaces than schools, such as restaurants and homes, which are 10 and 200 times more dangerous, respectively.
Some prosecutors in other parts of the country are considering charging parents who have unsecured guns that are used in a shooting, as reported by the New York Times in May 2018.
Priya says it should be considered child endangerment.
“They should be held accountable with an indelible felony charge and complete revoking of rights to own guns,” she says. “The Virginia laws are sadly lacking in this regard and they get away with a slap on the wrist and a small fine.”
Survey says
It’s not as bad as it sounds. Researchers with the University of Virginia’s Youth Violence Project, which is directed by Dewey Cornell and exists to prevent violence among young people, surveyed nearly 70,000 students and 15,000 teachers and staff at high schools across the nation in 2016. Here’s what they found:
-82 percent of students felt safe in schools
-92 percent of teachers felt safe
-80 percent of teachers reported adequate safety and security measures
-3 percent of students reported carrying a weapon to school
Democrats are examining the issue through a “broader lens” than the Republican-led committee Toscano says, with their own task force called the Safe Virginia Initiative, which focuses largely on gun safety.
“Virginians realize that thoughts and prayers are no longer enough to address our problems,” he said in his newsletter.
For Priya, one of the largest takeaways from her discussion with Toscano was his making the connection between a school and its community—“If the community has got a lot of issues of violence, then it definitely plays out in schools as well,” she says.
They also discussed framing gun violence as a public health crisis that requires legal attention.
“We’ve managed to get a statewide Medicaid expansion with the support of people who may in the past have opposed gun sense laws,” says Samyuktha. “So if you can frame gun sense as something tied to health, and something that would be contributing to safety and physical wellbeing, then it could be a more effective legislative path.”
Priya also notes that when a child dies because of not wearing a seatbelt, or for not being properly buckled into his car seat, legislators immediately write new laws to prevent such tragedies.
“I think we should have laws in place that make sure children are safe wherever they are, and anything short of that is not acceptable,” she says. The most important step to ensure that is electing people who are willing to hear those concerns and address them, Priya adds, and “I think [voting] is the biggest weapon we have.”
Members of Moms Demand Action gathered at the Northside Library August 13 to write letters to senators and legislators, urging them to stand firmly against their colleagues who are working to legalize the 3-D printing of firearms.
Firearm fatalities
Everytown For Gun Safety Support Fund, a sister organization of Moms Demand Action For Gun Sense in America, reports 96 gun-related deaths in America every day. “If you think of every day as a mass shooting, that kind of shows you what’s going on,” says 20-year-old Samyuktha Mahadevan, an active organizer with Moms Demand Action and Students Demand Action.
Firearms are the second leading cause of death for American children, and the first leading cause for the country’s black children.
Nearly 1,600 minors die by gun homicide every year. (For kids under the age of 13, most of these happen in the home.)
The gun homicide rate in the U.S. is 25 times higher than that of other developed countries.
“The idea of 3-D gun print-outs is preposterous and highly irresponsible and defeats the purpose of any existing gun laws,” says Priya. “We need to fight this foolishness at all costs.”
Adds Samyuktha, “I know in high school we had a 3-D printer and in college we have several. That makes it much more real to know that if someone so chose to, they could download and print something out so easily.”
Another bad idea? Arming teachers, says Priya. Even though Bell’s committee on school safety won’t discuss it, the Mahadevans will.
While Priya simply calls it the “stupidest idea in the world,” her youngest daughter, Shreya, illustrates a grim outcome.
Says the 9-year-old: “Anyone could pick up a gun from a teacher’s desk and start shooting it, or a child could get something from a teacher’s desk and pick it up out of curiosity and start playing with it, and then they might just accidentally pull the trigger on someone.”
Becoming bulletproof
Student activists who survived the bloodbath in Parkland have made it clear that they won’t back down. And local pupils are following their lead.
Wearing an orange T-shirt with the words “Students Demand Action” written in white, Samyuktha sat on a panel at the August 3 March For Our Lives town hall meeting at a local church, with both Charlottesville kids and faces from Parkland, who have been on tour with their message all summer.
The official March For Our Lives drew hundreds of thousands of young people to the nation’s capital on March 24 for a day of protesting lax firearm laws, advocating for gun reform, and remembering those who have lost their lives at the hands of a school shooter.
Samyuktha helped organize a March For Our Lives sister march in Williamsburg, as dozens of Charlottesville students boarded buses and headed to the big event in D.C.
Among them was then-Charlottesville High School senior Fré Halvorson-Taylor, an 18-year-old who will start classes at Columbia University this fall. Like many of her peers, she was and still is frustrated with the persistent violence in schools.
“I was disappointed with the lack of concrete response from our legislators across the country,” she says. “Every instance of gun-related violence inside and outside of schools is preventable. And I’m baffled and hurt as to why nothing is being done about it.”
Halvorson-Taylor says growing up in the “information age,” and with social media sites that allow her generation to voice their views and contribute to community discourse is partly responsible for their boldness.
“I’m not sure we have many more problems than other generations, but we’re certainly reckoning with and facing head-on a lot of issues that have existed in our society for a while,” she says. “Speaking out comes naturally to us.”
She also had a hand in the March 14 National School Walkout, where students in schools across the country walked out of class on the one-month anniversary of the shooting in Parkland. Halvorson-Taylor and Albemarle High School student Camille Pastore wrote a joint statement that was approved by representatives from Monticello and Western Albemarle high schools, and read aloud by students at all four schools during the walkout.
“For too long, we the young people, the future, have waited to speak up,” they shouted into bullhorns. “But more importantly, we’ve waited to be heard. And now our voices have been given platforms. What will we do with them?”
Though hundreds of students had walked out to their respective campuses, silence hung in the air between the young activists’ words: “Our generation reacts differently to tragedy. We went to school after Columbine and dove into textbooks during Sandy Hook. That doesn’t mean we’re not scared—we are. And our teachers are scared. And we have a right to be. We attend these institutions in fear because we are targeted, we are vulnerable, and we could be shot.”
The internal dialogue Halvorson-Taylor has been grappling with, she says, is how to make schools physically and emotionally safe, and where to draw the line between being prepared and making schools feel like prisons.
“We’ve all heard the criticism—adults are surprised to find that the Parkland teenagers are passionate, intelligent, and articulate. But this isn’t news for us. We know how strong we can be, and that’s why we’re here now, urging you all to use your voices.”
Parkland survivor Delaney Tarr has famously said the movement created and led by students is based on emotion, pain, and passion, and that some of teenagers’ biggest flaws—the tendency to lash out or be a bit too aggressive—are their greatest strengths.
“Channel your anger. Make change. For the first time in a long time, the nation is listening to us. What will we tell it?”
“Bandanna or beads?” asks Cynthia Neff, walking up and down the center aisle of the bus. Hands reach for the bright orange options that will be used to distinguish Charlottesvillians in a sea of hundreds of thousands at the March for Our Lives rally held March 24 in Washington, D.C. Students from area high schools chose the color to represent UVA, but it’s fitting that orange is also the official color of National Gun Violence Awareness Day.
Neff is one of the organizers who helped coordinate buses and logistics for the trip to D.C.; she says she learned many lessons from her participation in the Women’s March in January 2017. “What a bitch to plan that was,” says Neff. “Thank god the youth took control of this one.”
The youth Neff speaks of are local students, many of whom helped plan their school’s participation in the nationwide walkout on March 14, including Fré Halvorson-Taylor, from Charlottesville High.
“Turnout was better than expected [at the walkout], so we knew we had to capitalize on this momentum today—especially in registering people to vote,” Halvorson-Taylor says. “We need to unseat the NRA and NRA-funded politicians. We are going to the march for everyday victims of gun violence, not just those of mass or school shootings.”
Halvorson-Taylor says that, despite the recent spike in school shootings, schools are still safer than “our own backyards, parks, our city streets.”
Albemarle, Monticello, Charlottesville and Western high schools planned their walkouts together, including writing a joint statement. More than half the student body at each school left class for 17 minutes for speeches, moments of silence, postcard-writing and singing, in honor of the 17 victims of the February 14 school shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. After the success of the events, the push to send students to D.C. began, led by Parkland students. “We are here to show that even though we are young, we have the ability to organize, vote and make a difference—maybe even more of a difference—like an adult,” says Ashley Clark from CHS. “We are directly impacting the world today.”
“Thoughts and prayers aren’t enough,” says Helen Gehle of CHS. “We aren’t just showing solidarity by going, we are saying we need comprehensive policies on gun control.” Gehle hopes to continue a life in social justice and activism, saying she and her classmates “woke up” after the Parkland shooting.
Zyahna Bryant and other outspoken students sought Neff for help. She obliged, as did countless other volunteers in the community, including Kristin Clarens, a leader for Families in Action. Locally, several social justice and community groups (Moms Demand Action, Charlottesville Clergy Collection, UVA Student Council and Indivisible Charlottesville, among others) organized a satellite March for Our Lives rally on the Downtown Mall.
Clarens invited those who couldn’t attend the D.C. march to contribute in other ways—by donating signs, food and their time. On the eve of the event, she rallied families together at Champion Brewery for preparations, which included corralling elementary-aged kids into making sandwiches for the older marchers.
Elliott Gewirtz, 6, said she doesn’t like peanut butter sandwiches, but enjoyed making them for the marchers. She and others her age were cognizant of the reason they were there. “People have to stop selling guns—the community can make the changes,” Elliott said.
She isn’t alone in already thinking about these concepts. Neff says, “I have heard students say they want longer recess or better food at lunch, but I have also heard 7-year-olds ask for bulletproof windows.” A recurring sentiment among older students was the constant feeling of needing to look over their shoulders and be aware of potential shooters, something they say was never on their parents’ minds when they were in school.
Echoes of the words “gun” and “safety” were heard scattered throughout the evening as the kids worked in an assembly line to wrap the lunches.
“It’s amazing to have the support of the city and see our students use this moment for these issues,” says Clarens.
The time is now
At sunrise on the morning of the march, City Councilor Wes Bellamy boards bus No. 1 to give a few words of encouragement.
“Please have fun and please be loud,” he says. “Let them know Charlottesville is there. The whole city is behind you.”
Frosty, pale green fields beneath a soft blue sky rush by as students nap on one of the buses. Chaperones spread cream cheese on bagels, and Neff hands out stickers bearing the phrases #CvilleSaysEnough and #CvilleStrong. The latter was composed as a response to August 12. “The City of Charlottesville communications office had come up with #CvilleStandsForLove,” says Neff, “but Zyahna doesn’t feel that Charlottesville truly does stand for love right now. She wanted something else.”
One student tracks the Clark Brothers gun store and shooting range as the bus passes it in Warrenton. Sesame seeds from Bodo’s bagels scatter across the floor with every bump in the road. Two girls in the back giggle quietly as they take turns braiding each other’s hair and tying orange bananas around their heads. A father listens while his son reads the comic book Lumberjanes to him; others listen to music or read magazines to pass the time.
The bus is quiet, but not necessarily with apprehension.
“The only thing we are afraid of is not getting the message across or not being heard,” says Gehle.
Most of the students are experiencing their first protest; many say they look forward to participating in other causes and rallies in the future, whether for the environment, civil rights, equality or education.
“A lot of us were freaked out this past year from a blackout, a lockdown and all of the drills,” says Sarah Carter from CHS. She hopes to see stronger and more frequent employment of background checks as a result of the march, along with ammunition sales being restricted.
Carter and her peers commend CHS administration, faculty and their principal for having open and candid conversations about school safety. “It feels like they are really listening to us,” says Carter. The CHS students agree they all felt safe at the school, after being shown emergency plans and having drills, and having the support of some politically outspoken teachers on their side.
Other students feel their schools could do more. “Most people didn’t really talk about Parkland; my friends were outraged, and afraid it could happen to us,” says Anna Eldridge of Western. “We only do lockdowns once a year, and felt like we had no plan and don’t know what to do in an emergency.”
Murray High student Isabel Eldridge was born several years after the Columbine shooting, but she still cites it as her reason for marching. “Murray is a small school…some students didn’t care, but I wanted to go, and be a part of something today,” she says. “We should have changed laws after Columbine.”
As the bus crosses the Potomac River into D.C., the Washington Monument towers over the horizon. When it stops, students unfurl their signs, and organizers tie bright orange balloons to the front of the bus so it is easy to find later. Dozens of other buses fill the lot next to the Redskins stadium, where volunteers hand out free water, and vendors tout their merchandise for the marchers to wear.
Though chilly in temperature, the atmosphere is warm. Tragedy at schools and large venues and on the streets has brought hundreds of thousands of people together for what is believed to be one of the largest single-day protests in history.
Attendees step through mud puddles and remaining piles of snow, and walk beneath budding cherry and tulip trees. As they march through Capitol Heights, they pass windows bearing signs of support—some Washingtonians step outside to wave and cheer as they go by. Cars honk, prompting students to raise their fists and yell in return. Bicyclists shout “Yes, Charlottesville!” as they ride by. Some residents have set up tables with free water and snacks.
One parent chaperone following a few steps back from the students is Diane Beaudoin-Price. She is a mother to three daughters at CHS and Walker Elementary, who are all participating in the march.
“The Trump election woke us all up; before, we had been a little more easygoing with activism and issues,” says Beaudoin-Price. “It’s especially pertinent since I have three daughters—I see a lot of activism and care in them.” She says her husband has been sending them supportive messages all day. “There are so many common sense reforms that should happen, because nobody needs a gun beyond hunting or at a sporting place.”
Beaudoin-Price cites an oft-stated statistic—that even guns in the house intended for protection increase the chance of injury or death of household members by 11 times, especially for women and children. “Having kids makes you want to stand for something, and for their future,” says Beaudoin-Price.
The group strides by the Capitol with upbeat steps. As they pass down the slope toward the hub of the gathering on Third Street between Independence and Pennsylvania avenues, Senator Cory Booker stops to pose with them for a photo.
“We are just so excited to be here,” says Johanna Hall. Her friend and fellow AHS student, Ruby Schaeffer, echoes her statement: “It’s now or never,” she says.
The police presence on Constitution Avenue is strong, but non-confrontational. If there are any counterprotesters, they go unnoticed. The Charlottesville group squeezes through the crowd, making its way as far along as it can in the throng of people in puffy winter coats, ducking under signs and skirting around curbs and avoiding stepping on toes.
Once settled, everyone hushes and listens intently to the day’s speakers—including students from all over the country who have experienced gun violence—cheering and chanting when appropriate. Tears are wiped away, sunglasses unable to completely shield emotions.
“Today is proving that this conversation is popularizing how intersectional this topic is. We have a systematic problem,” says Halvorson-Taylor. Parkland survivor and activist David Hogg affirms that notion when he says “bullets don’t discriminate” in his speech.
It wasn’t the breeze that day that brought chills down spines, but rather, the dozens of youth who took the stage, holding hands, all bearing the message of “enough.” Gun violence survivors and those affected by gun violence, people who have lost siblings and friends to bullets, call the audience to action for three hours. Each story is full of pain, details such as “I watched my brother’s face turn gray as he died,” but also of hope: “We see you, we hear you, and we will change the future.”
One little girl walks on the stage holding a Parkland student’s hand. “My grandfather had a dream that his four little children would not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character,” she says. A collective gasp rings across the crowd as the connection is made: It’s Martin Luther King Jr.’s granddaughter, 9-year-old Yolanda Renee King.
“I have a dream that enough is enough,” Yolanda says. “That this should be a gun-free world. Period.” Three Monticello High School students put their hands to their mouths, their eyes watering.
One Parkland student asks the marchers to sing happy birthday to victim Nick Dworet (March 24 would have been his 18th birthday), and everyone sings in unison.
Toward the end of the event, three students take the stage, and state their names and ages. Audience members crane their necks and wait for more. “We are from Newtown, Connecticut.”
That’s when a UVA Curry School teacher-in-training hides her face behind her sign, which reads “Training to be a teacher, not a sharp shooter,” consumed with emotion. Four hundred Sandy Hook survivors, family members and faculty are among the day’s marchers.
Parkland shooting survivor Emma González lists the names of each of the school shooting victims, then stares across the vast sea of faces for more than four minutes, tears streaming down her face. Her gaze never wavers. The crowd falls silent, later learning that González’s six minutes and 20 seconds on stage was the exact length of time the Parkland shooting lasted. Chants of “Vote her in!” follow her off stage.
Alethia Laughon-Worrell of CHS and Halvorson-Taylor found González’s speech to be the most emotional and moving.
“Our safety is something we think about every day when we enter the school,” says Halvorson-Taylor. “Being in Charlottesville, it is compounded by the fact we faced white supremacists last year. We are all aware we need to do something.”
Laughon-Worrell agrees, saying, “Doing these kinds of marches is one of the most important things we can do after August 12.”
But what needs to be done varies for each attendee. Some believe in changes directly at schools, be it installing metal detectors or adding more security in the hallways. Others are keen on larger policies, or banning semi-automatic weapons and bump stocks. More still believe the answer is voting in November.
One CHS student, Hamada Al-Doori, has been affected by gun violence for a large portion of his life. He showed up to the “amazing and successful march” to make a stand and prevent his past from happening at his school. He grew up in Iraq, near Baghdad, and his immediate family came to the U.S. to escape ISIS and the everyday violence. “It sounds sad, but hearing automatic weapons and bombs every day is normal there,” Al-Doori says. “My dad was close to being kidnapped. We had to hide for months, trapped in cities. Here, I thought we were supposed to be safe.”
He admitted he was nervous before the march, but afterward, he had a huge smile on his face. “It was so emotional,” Al-Doori says. “I’m so excited to be here and be part of something. What is happening in Iraq cannot happen here; it cannot become normal.”
After the march concludes, the students and chaperones, tired from an emotional and physical day, make their way through the streets, calm and confident in the event’s ringing message. People cheer, high-five and hug.
Some Charlottesville students lounge on the slopes of Senate Park, laughing and playing games, in between snapping a few final pictures with their signs. They may have been sitting in the shadow of the Capitol all day, but now the sun shines high overhead, with rays of light streaming through tree branches. Their smiles reflect relief and gratitude as they look toward the sun passing over the Hill, basking in its glow.
“The next generation is coming,” says Zoe Weatherford from AHS. “We are willing to put in the work. We are making rallying possible for all to attend. We are ready to talk about the issues and get uncomfortable.”
Her friend, Carmen Day, also from AHS, says, “It’s just as important for individuals to show up and take responsibility to make it happen. It never will if you don’t share your opinion.”
Both Weatherford and Day are 18 and they are looking forward to voting this November.
“We and so many other people are paying attention,” Day says.
Exactly one month from the day that a gunman shot 17 people to death at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, local students and their peers across the nation said they wouldn’t stand for that—so they walked.
March 14 marked the first National School Walkout, where thousands of students left their classrooms at 10am to demand gun control legislation.
As a seemingly endless current of teenagers streamed out of Charlottesville High School, 17 students lay motionless with their eyes shut tight, while holding signs made of red paper and black letters that spelled out the names of each victim of the Parkland shootings.
“We’ve become numb to the fear,” said senior Fré Halvorson-Taylor into a bullhorn to about 700 of her peers. She was reading from a statement that she wrote with Albemarle High School student Camille Pastore, and that representatives from Monticello and Western Albemarle high schools approved.
“The idea was that it would be read at all the surrounding schools or otherwise disseminated to the Charlottesville community,” Halvorson-Taylor says.
Over at Monticello High, teenagers also flooded out the front doors of their school, but the students who organized their walkout asked for 17 full minutes of silence as the group walked, one minute for each person killed at Marjory Stoneman Douglas.
And as those same names were read at Albemarle High School, an all-female acapella group sang Coldplay’s “Fix You.”
Among the many signs held there, several said the same things: “Enough is enough. Arm us with books, not bullets,” and “We care, but do you?”
Several local students are organizing buses to Washington, D.C., for the March For Our Lives this weekend.
A dozen area activist groups, such as the local chapter of Moms Demand Action and the Charlottesville Coalition for Gun Violence Prevention, have organized a sister event at the Sprint Pavilion from 2-4pm on March 24 to demand that the lives and safety of young people in schools become a priority.
“I don’t know what to say but that. That was a thorough butt-whupping.”—UVA Coach Tony Bennett after the historic loss of his No. 1-seeded Cavaliers to No. 16 seed UMBC in the first round of the NCAA tournament
City settles FOIA lawsuit
Charlottesville will give freelance reporters Jackson Landers and Natalie Jacobsen redacted copies of police operational plans for August 12 as part of a settlement of their Freedom of Information Act request and lawsuit. The reporters also asked for Virginia State Police plans, but the state argued March 13 in court against turning plans over because they may reuse them. Because they worked so well the first time?
Legislative success
While the General Assembly killed all bills that would allow Charlottesville to better control another Unite the Right rally, it did pass a bill carried by Delegate Steve Landes that will allow Albemarle to regulate parking on secondary highways.
Meat market
New research from meal delivery service Food Box HQ says Virginia singles are among the least likely in the nation to date vegans. In a recent survey, 38 percent indicated that they would not consider dating someone with a diet sans animal products.
New historical society head
After Steven Meeks abruptly resigned as executive director of the Albemarle Charlottesville Historical Society last month, the organization’s board of directors named journalist, author and historian Coy Barefoot as his successor.
Jogger dies
Andrew J. Yost, a 49-year-old who was struck by a sedan while out jogging around 8:30pm February 19 in Barboursville, succumbed to his injuries at the University of Virginia Medical Center on March 10. Driver Guy Wilde, also 49, was charged with one felony count of hit and run.