Today, I cried...

10.18.21

I cried today on the way to work.

I mean, it wasn’t uncontrollable bawling, but tears were shed. Trigger? Harry Chapin’s Cats and the Cradle. I cannot point to any specific lyric, but the whole idea of the life cycle and father/son relationship in the song got me a bit misty. And of course, then I started thinking about other life cycle songs that I used to play around campfires in Illinois, Wisconsin, and Israel: Joni Mitchell’s Circle Game and Cat Steven’s Father and Son immediately came to mind too.

As most of you know, I have three sons - all at very different stages of their life cycle. And all I have been able to think about the past 3+ weeks is that there is still so much of their life cycles that I want to share. I mean, with the oldest, cartwheels are just turning to car wheels. The middle will still play catch (or kick soccer balls) with me, and the youngest is just learning to read. There’s still so much we have to go through.

And I think that that is why telling the kids about my cancer and surgery was one of the hardest things I think I have ever had to do in life. First of all, the week between my diagnosis and meeting with the oncologist to learn more details was brutal. At that time, all we knew was that the cancer could have been anywhere from stage 2-4. I had nightmares and daymares about watching the “last” soccer game or the “last” White Sox game or the “last” Shema before bed. I did my best to be optimistic, but inside there was still that nagging, “What if this is the end?”

So even though we eventually found out that the worst was unlikely and there is a lot of reason for optimism, it was still tough to sit down and actually tell the older boys. I mean, as parents we have one job: Protect and Nurture. My ability to do that was now in jeopardy. I knew that for them, hearing the words was going to be painful and I could not protect them from that. I will never forget the look in their eyes as I had to tell them the news. Even with the fact that the outlook was promising, I could still see their pain and sense the hurt. It is awful to see your kids hurt and cry - and even worse when you are the cause.

For his part, the little one is the luckiest of all. He has no idea what is going on and would not understand it even if we did tell him. At some point, he will know that dad is sick, but he will not understand until he is older. At that point, it will either be moot because I am still around...or it will be something else that I’m doing my best to not think about at this time.

In 72 hours, they are going to fillet me like a fish. At that point, anything can happen. Yesterday, I struggled to keep the panic attacks at bay. I am scared. I know the surgery is necessary and I want it to happen, but I don’t because I’m scared.

Today, the anxiety has been better, except I cannot stop thinking about the Cat’s and the Cradle and the Circle Game. I cannot stop thinking about the “what ifs” and how unfair it is that there’s a chance that I miss so much of the life cycle events in my sons’ lives...and miss so much time with my amazing wife. We still have so much to do, so much life to live, so much love to give. And so I fight...even with the fear and the misty eyes.

Please get your screenings.
Please say your prayers.

I hope that I’ll be here for so much more of my sons’ lives “before the last revolving year is through.”

#GratefulFighters

Well...How did we get here?

 

10.13.21

Well...how did we get here?

Yes, I do like the Talking Heads, and yes, I heard that song yesterday, and yes, it led me to start thinking back over the past 2+ weeks. How did we get here? Well, it’s been nothing short of a whirlwind.

As I wrote earlier, I don’t remember much, if anything, about the specific moment when the doc came in on 9/27 and told me that I had cancer - a 6.5cm lump of fun in my colon. Between the anesthesia and just hearing the word “cancer,” that moment in time is just a blur. But Brandi was in immediate warrior mode - figuring out next steps and intent on getting things in order.

At this point, I’m hearing from some of you, from some of my friends, that you are out there scheduling your colonoscopies - and the wait time is about 3 months. It’s hard to believe that we need a 3 month wait to perform life saving screenings, but this is the reality today. And by the way, for every one of you who have reached out and let me know that you have scheduled your screening or that you have convinced your husband/wife/partner to get theirs, I am grateful. This is one of my missions in spinning this disease into a positive, and while I’m not keeping a tally sheet, my heart grows that much more with each new appointment! Please keep spreading the word and making those appointments!!

Anyhow, the amazing thing about cancer is that while almost everything else in the medical field is slow and delayed, the doctor put through my needs ‘stat’ and within the time it took us to drive from my colonoscopy to work (20 minutes), we had all 3 of my next appointments on the calendar. Brandi set up my CT for 10/1, my oncologist for 10/4, and the surgeon CALLED ME and we set up 10/6 for that appointment. Whirlwind indeed.

During that first week, we told the bare minimum of people - basically my parents and our bosses. We did not want to do anything else until we knew more. That being said, we did not sleep all that well that week. My primary concern, quite honestly, was telling the kids. That alone kept me up at nights. We do everything we can, as parents, to protect and nourish our kids. Telling them that I was sick with cancer was a huge nightmare because I could not protect them from that pain.

With colon cancer, the biggest issue is whether it is isolated or spread. Without gory details, Stage 1 is where the doctor can just scrape away polyps during a regular colonoscopy. Anything more than that cannot really be diagnosed during the colonoscopy. So for most of the week, we had no idea how serious things were. Stage 2 would mean that the cancer is isolated without spread. Stage 3 basically means there is curable spread. Stage 4 is an incurable spread.

At the Friday CT scan, I asked a lot of questions. I tried to butter up the technician in order to get as much information as possible. I asked her if she saw my pictures? I told her that she was probably so experienced and good at her job that she could probably see if I had a lot of reason to be worried. Alas, like all good techs, she said she does not read or interpret the pics. But she did say that she had a friend on that end and she would ask the friend to speed up the readings. As it was a Friday, I figured that we would be waiting until the oncologist on Monday, at least. To our relief though, on Saturday, I received a message that my results were uploaded to my digital account.

Now, I am a reading teacher, but I’m not a doctor, so we read the results with some caution, but to our untrained eyes, the results seemed to indicate that there was no spread to major organs - no longs, no liver, no nothing! There did seem to be some swelling in the surrounding lymph nodes. We figured all of that meant that I was not in Stage 4 and provided some relief until the oncologist confirmed our thinking on Monday. At that appointment, we were told that I am somewhere within the Stage 2 to 3 range and that we won’t know for sure until testing is done post-surgery. The oncologist said that either way, the prognosis was good for Stage 3 and even better for Stage 2. In fact, Stage 2 (no spread) just means regular monitoring and colonoscopies for 5 years. Many have commented on my positivity - well, this is one reason for that. If the doctor is confident, then I believe in the science and I can draw from that confidence.

The next step was to meet with the surgeon. To be honest, the first doc at the colonoscopy told me that I’d be out for 1-2 weeks post surgery. Apparently though, that is for smaller surgeries with scopes. (skip the rest of this paragraph if you’re squeamish). Apparently, my little guy requires both scopes and an incision in my belly about the size of the surgeon’s hand so he can get up in there. Essentially, they are going to take out about 1 foot of my colon and likely around 25 lymph nodes in the surrounding tissue. Then the surgeon takes the two ends of my colon and staples them back together.

All said and done, this will require me to be in the hospital for 3-5 days and then prevent me from working for 4-6 weeks while I recover at home. That is significantly more than 1-2 weeks as I originally thought. Aside from telling the kids about the cancer, this is the scariest part of this whole thing for me. For one, I do not love hospitals - they have given me anxiety ever since I saw my Grandpa Oscar after he passed at Glenbrook. It was not easy for me to be in hospitals, even when our sons were born. The idea of surgery gives me so much anxiety that I have dealt with years of knee pain simply because I did not want to go to a doc and have them tell me I need knee surgery. But now I have no choice, and to be honest, I am scared.

So, later in the day on 10/6, I got in touch with the surgery scheduler and took the first date available to get this shit outta me - 10/22. It is SO SOON and that is truly amazing considering what many of you are finding out - that scheduling anything hospital related is taking about 3 months. My cancer will be removed in less than a month after my diagnosis.

I’m grateful that early screening caught this before stage 4.
I’m grateful they were able to get me in so quickly.
I’m grateful that so many are inspired to schedule their own screenings.
And I’m grateful to you, my readers and friends.

So here’s to you (I’m raising my Ensure Surgery immunonutrion shake in toast).

Keep scheduling those screenings!!!

Thank you and I love you!

#GratefulFighters

 10.12.21

#GratefulFighters

At some point during the evening after my diagnosis on September 27th, it occured to me that there was no way I was going to be able to ‘privately’ go through this battle. Like I said in my last post, I don’t love to be the center of attention, but I soon realized that even IF I was able to go at this alone, that would not be fair to my family - especially Brandi. Brandi has been unbelievably strong the past weeks, but I know she’s going to need support. The kids, too.

And once the decision was made that I was going to have to tell people beyond my immediate family, started thinking about how I was going to leverage the need to tell people into making a difference. By the time I awoke on Tuesday morning, I was certain of 2 things: 

1) I was going to tell people. 

2) I was going to be a warrior against cancer - for me and for others.

I’m not sure at what point in the night that I hit the stage of acceptance, but I did. Looking back, I feel like it happened so quickly, but I think I was able to come to this conclusion because I know quite a few impressive people who turned their own battles into powerful voices for cancer fundraising and advocacy, and I also know quite a few people who I admire greatly for their spirit of giving. The kindness and ingenuity of those I know is inspiring...and I am feeding off of that!

One person on my mind the night of my diagnosis was my friend, Jenna. (I did not ask Jenna for permission here, so I hope I don’t embarrass her.) I have always admired Jenna’s strength and the way she channeled her battle into Twist Out Cancer. (Check it out! It’s incredible and inspiring.) I am not going to tell Jenna’s story, but I will say that she is an inspiration for the way she fought her disease, for the courage she showed during the battle, and for how she turned something negative and scary into a massive positive. On top of all of that, she is one amazing person who I’m proud to call a friend. So, yes, I spent some on the night of the 27th thinking, “What would Jenna do?”
*Full Disclosure: I did speak to Jenna after I wrote this and I was able to share how important she was/is to my mindset (and life)...

 

My friend Steve was also on my mind because Steve is a beautiful, generous light in our world. Steve is the owner and operator of Grateful Sweats. Over the time I have known him, Steve has been so generous with his merch. Currently, he runs 2 weekly give-aways on Facebook (Grateful Sweats Giveaways group on FB - Join it!). In addition, Steve has raised money for women's shelters and other causes with his merch...because he cares. I consider Grateful Sweats to be "Heady Clothes with a Purpose". And Steve's generosity and love are contagious. (Steve is also unaware I'm writing this or that he was on my mind, so I hope this is okay, Dubes!)

The next day, I told Brandi that I’d decided to be a warrior and that I wanted to make a difference. I told her that I wanted to use my love of music as a vehicle for inspiring others to get their screenings and to raise money for cancer. After thinking about it for a while, Brandi came up with the idea that we should call it Grateful Warriors. She tells me she loves the idea (and I’ll take her word for it.) I did a google search for the Grateful Warriors name and there is actually a woman who has used that name for her journey - so for now, I’m going to call mine #GratefulFighters. So using the lyrics that have defined over half of my life and influenced me so brightly, I plan on designing some shirts and raising funds with Grateful Dead inspiration. Helping in this adventure will be my dearest friend, Laina. I will channel a lot of my post-surgery healing time into the design process with Brandi and Laina’s support and input. (Logo and Fundraising Merch to come).

But more than purchasing a shirt at some point or joining in on whatever other ways we may devise to raise money and spread awareness, I am asking all of you to join me in #GratefulFighters with the mission to GET YOUR SCREENINGS and spread the word to others about the importance of cancer screenings. I was so humbled yesterday by the massive amount of posts and love I received after I posted the first blog entry about my journey. I was not even thinking that that would happen. My writing is personally therapeutic and spreading the message is important to me, but you all floored me. I really felt the love and prayers, and I appreciate every single one of them. Truly. I cannot thank you all enough. I know you are with me, and the messages, hearts, and caring emojis are everything.

 

Most importantly and now that you’re here, if you choose to be a part of our #GratefulFighters 

army - Please start spreading the word. Colon cancer screenings start at AGE 45 now.

Colonoscopies, Mammograms...Please don’t wait. I had no symptoms, but here we are and I promise: Early detection saves lives! So spread the word.

Thank you all for everything yesterday - all of the love and prayers and messages.  

I am a lucky guy. My cup runneth over...

I Have Cancer

10.11.21

I have cancer.

Many of you already know it, but I apologize if this is a surprise to some of you. It’s been a whirlwind couple of weeks.

 

I have cancer.

 

The more I say it, the easier it is to accept the fight that is in front of me. I did not think it would be that

way; I do not like to be the center of attention and I figured I would never share such a journey publicly.

But here we are, and the battle is on, and the more I say it, the more I ready myself to fight.

 

The 2 weeks have been quite a ride. So much has happened, so many emotions, so many dreams an

nightmares. I want to write them all down. Some I will share, and others, I may not. For a while, I’ll be

writing “catch up” as I try to capture the past couple of weeks. Eventually, though, I will be documenting

this fight - and victory. But I want to capture them so that I remember - capture them so that my

beautiful wife and amazing sons will someday have a piece of me and my mind that they can keep

forever. 

But to be clear, that someday is not now. I refuse to give in. Those that know me best, know that I am

a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, so this attitude will be of no surprise.

The real surprise was the diagnosis. I am not sure we are ever prepared to hear such news, and

Monday September 27th was pretty surreal for me. I mean, I never thought I would live forever. In fact,

there have been times in my life (college) where I lived life in the fast lane, so much so that I think at

the onset of my panic/anxiety attacks in the mid-90s, I thought I was just having a midlife crisis. I was

25ish, and there was a part of me that thought I would not live to be 50, hence the midlife concept. But

I thought my enemy was going to be heart related - not cancer.

And so maybe the diagnosis should not have been a shocker - but it was. Today, looking back on that

day, it feels like a dream. I was coming out of the anesthesia trance, and I know the doctor sat down

and said the words, but I cannot picture the scene for the life of me. I know I was stunned, I know I felt

like my brain and body turned numb, I know I listened to the doc’s explanation and maybe even asked

questions...but it’s all a blur.

At that moment, my wife entered warrior mode. She has been an incredible rock of stability over the

past 2 weeks - even though I know she must be scared like me. Same can be said for my parents. I

told them right away because I felt like they deserved to know. They have been great as well, although

I am sure they are scared - even as my father fights his own battle with Lymphoma.
 

So yes, it is scary. I can be ready for battle, I can even say the words, “I have cancer” and accept the

challenge with positivity - but it is scary. But, I will not let that part define me.

I have cancer.

I choose to be a warrior.

*Quick edit: Since I first drafted this, so many people have reached out, have been so kind. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. More on that later... 

                

Welcome Lucy to our Family

It's been 10.5 months since we lost Oskee. It seems like an eternity and it's been really difficult. AndI have to thank so many of you that have been there for me (for all of us) over the last 10.5 months. Even though I rarely wanted to share my grief, I knew you were there, and I so appreciate the love. I'm not sure I ever adequately thanked everyone for the support, but just know that we felt the support.

At this point, the truth is, I still get misty, fairly regularly, when I think of her. I miss her so much - and at this point, I know that I will always have this part of me that is forever with her over the Rainbow Bridge. She will always have a space in my heart that cannot be replaced. For anyone reading this that's lost a pet, you know what I am feeling and saying.

And if I'm being totally honest, I'm not sure I'm ready for this; after all - I cried again on Wednesday night as Brandi and I discussed whether or not to use Oskee's University of Illinois water bowl.

So that pretty much leaves 2 questions which I figure are on most people's minds. I'm going to try to keep this simple and just answer those questions. First of all, why go through this again?

• It's primarily for the kids (though Brandi would argue that it's for me). Alon was 22 months old when we lost Oskee, yet he still regularly asks about her...and he loves Paw Patrol. And Ami and Nadav have been asking for a dog lately as well, so all of the boys are on board.
• Brandi and I believe it is a great thing for kids to grow up with a dog. Oskee was such a positive part of Ami and Nadav's life, and we want the same for Alon.
• Ami and Nadav will be taking more responsibility and that's a good thing too. I realize that many kids say they will take responsibility for a new pet, and do not, but Ami will have to, whether he likes it or not, because he is often the last to leave the house in the morning and the first to return in the afternoon. He knows this and he is looking forward to it.
• We miss the unconditional love of a dog - there's something about coming home to a house where a loving pet is waiting there for you. These past months, it has been eerily difficult to come home to an empty house.

The second logical question is: how am I doing this even though I am still gutted from losing Oskee?

• I have to thank one of you, and I apologize for not remembering who it was - but someone said to me a few months ago that Oskee would want us to give another dog a good home and life - just like we gave to her. There are so many dogs in shelters that need homes, and some how, some way, I guess we are honoring Oskee's memory by taking in another as part of our family. This is the idea that I am clinging to and it is the idea that is helping me through this transition.

Enter Lucy
We ask you to love her like you all loved Oskee. Obviously, we expect Lucy to be different in personality - but so many of you opened your hearts to Oskee from the beginning, and she loved you too. We hope to give Lucy the same loving home, family, and friends that Oskee enjoyed for 15 years. Here we go! Good Times Ahead!

Why I do it....reflections on Shorashim Taglit 2018

I am often asked:
Why do you still do it?
Aren't you too old?
How many trips have you led?
Isn't it hard t leave your family?
How many times have you gone to Israel?
Don't you get bored of seeing the same stuff again and again?

Valid.
All of the above are valid questions. I mean, I'm fuckin' old. I'd be lying if I denied that at the end of a week of wading through streams, climbing mountains, and touring that I didn't feel some pain in both of my knees climbing stairs. I'd be lying if I didn't ask myself some of the above questions every December when I have to decide if I'm going to lead another summer trip to Israel.

But it's worth it.
And yes, I'm going to try and answer the above questions to show why, at 47 years old, it is way worth it.

I'll be honest. The participants and the staff, at this point, could almost be my children. They are almost half my age. I'm sure they look at me like I'm some relic - especially when I tell them that I've led 16 trips and this past trip was my 18th to Israel.

It never gets old. It is amazing how every hike I have done a dozen times and every sight I see a dozen times seems new and different when reflected in the eyes of a new group of people. To see their amazement, to feel their appreciation, and to answer their questions is really a pleasure. To share my love of the land and the Israeli people is something I cherish, and when I see that love reflected back to me by the American and Israeli participants, it is worth it in spades.

I don't think I'll ever tire of standing on the Golan overlooking the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) or watching the sun rise over the Jordanian mountains from Masada. I don't think I'll ever tire of looking across the border at Syria from the Golan and recalling the heroic stories of the men that conquered that land so the northern border communities of Israel can live in peace. I don't think I'll ever tire of the fullness of my heart the first time I ride the bus and climb the Judean mountains to reach Jerusalem, or tire of sitting on the rooftops in the Old City beholding the holiness of 3 religions - the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Dome of the Rock, and the Kotel (Western Wall). And I know I'll never grow tired of watching the waves of the Mediterranean Sea and walking the streets of Tel-Aviv.

And I know I'll never get tired of the feeling of pride I have that there is a Jewish homeland for my people - and sharing my love for it with new Israeli and American participants. And of course, I will never get tired of my 'rabbinic' role of ceremonially leading Shabbat services and offering to Bar/Bat Mitzvah participants that never had a chance to have one or to have a Hebrew name. This summer, I Bar/Bat Mitzvah'd 7 participants and gave names to a handful of others.

As if those reasons were not enough, I will share 2 specific things from this past trip that make it all worth it. First of all, we had an American participant on this trip that only found out she was Jewish a year and a half ago at age 25. When she found out that she was Jewish and she was eligible to go on Birthright (Taglit), she took the chance to learn about her unknown heritage. She learned that she had an aunt and cousin in Israel and she stayed an extra day to spend time with them. How powerful was the experience? This is what she wrote:

"[My aunt] is 97 years young! She turns 98 on July 20 which also happens to be my birthday (I had her age messed up before). We spent all day crying, laughing, and talking. She is an incredible storyteller with perfect recall of names, dates, places, and specific details. Born in 1920, I learned about everything she had to overcome from anti-semitism to WW2 to hunger, to her father being imprisoned in a Soviet camp for years, to the death of her brother and his life (my great grandfather), to how she came to Israel and so much more. Her father was the youngest of 17 children, but happened to move away from the town they lived in which was contested between Poland and Russia. The land was officially Poland during the war. All 16 remaining children and their children perished in the holocaust. In certain moments of emotion with the pain of talking about these things, she would pause and say “it would take a lifetime to explain everything but I will try” and try she did.

I'm so thankful for the Birthright experience that helped me understand her and connected me to the much larger family she shared with me. Apparently I have a boatload of cousins both in America and in Israel and Russia so more to come on that 😂. Miss everyone!"


In a nutshell, I am so thankful and honored to have been a part of facilitating the experience for her. Well worth it to help her discover her birthright.

And finally, it is worth it because leading the trips allows me to extend my own and spend time with my own Israeli family - not of blood, but family from experience. I am so thankful that 31 years after meeting Didi Remez, I was gifted with another 3 nights to spend with him, his beautiful wife Lilach and their 2 wonderful children who I love like my own. I am so thankful that I was able to spend an evening out with my amazing friend Udi, who I've known and loved for 20 years, and his amazingly wonderful girlfriend Tali. I am so thankful that I was able to spend yet another afternoon with my longtime brother Rick Teplitz. And I am so thankful to reconnect with my friend and participant from 2 years ago, Moshe Alexander, who made Aliyah 2 years ago. And I am thankful for my Israeli Shorashim family - like Tomer, who I didn't get to see this time, but I know I will see in years to come.

Though it's hard to leave my family, and it's hard to trek up mountains, and it's hard to amaze participants half my age with my swift journey up Masada, it is all worth it.

And after another summer, I am so blessed to once again have shared all of this with a new group of 49 participants and 2 staff members who are now part of my Shorashim family. Sometimes I wonder if I'm too old to connect with participants half my age...but from their reactions and comments at the end of the trip, I know that I still can and do. Thank you Bus #933 for once again showing me that our love for Israel and its people is important, and I am still relevant.

And thank you Michael Waitz and Michal Tamim and the rest of the Shorashim staff, and to my wife and family as well, for allowing me to still do this at age 47.

I am truly blessed.

Keeping Our Students Safe - We CAN Take Action

Depending on how an organization and/or news source defines a school shooting, there have been anywhere from 11 to 18 school shootings in 2018 as of February 16th. Maybe the number is lower, but without a doubt, there have been multiple people killed by guns in schools at least twice this year - once in Kentucky and this week in Florida.

According to one ABC News report citing FBI sources, there have been approximately 50 school shootings since the Columbine High School incident in 1999, my second year of teaching - and I'm now in my 20th year as a teacher.

This has to stop. It just has to. In no sane world should kids have to worry about their own safety when going to school; in no sane world should a parent have to wonder if it is the last time they will see their child when they send them off to school; and in no sane world should teachers and school employees have to constantly wonder how or if they would act to protect their own students like American hero teachers Aaron Feis and Scott Beigel did a few days ago at Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida.

Unfortunately, at this point, only one thing is clear: for whatever reason, the US Government is unable to figure out how best to keep our students safe in schools.

Before I go any further, I want to make one thing clear: I am tired of pointing fingers. I don't care that Trump may be an ass and/or an incompetent president in anyone's eyes. I don't care to point fingers at GOP members, like Marco Rubio, who receive a ton of money from the NRA. And I am equally tired of blaming Obama, who also failed to protect our children with any meaningful gun regulation or other means. In short, spare me the partisan crap. Nothing has changed in 19 years since Columbine.

So today, I got to thinking. How can Americans circumvent a constitutional law about guns that will almost never change? How can Americans circumvent or engage a government that has been impotent to stop the school violence to this point? What changes can we make, in our towns and schools, to at least TRY to better keep our students safe in school?

What I know is that the only control we have, somewhat, is over our local schools as taxpayers. So what we - you and I - can do immediately is to take stock of the security in place at our local schools and demand the school board and administration do what they have to to make that security EXCELLENT.

I am lucky enough to work at a place that can afford some darn good security. It's not fool proof by any means, but the following list contains some things we have:

1) Vegas style security cameras inside halls and outside the school with constant monitoring. Yes, we really employ a person that sits in a room and watches all of the camera feeds - just like you see on TV and movies in Vegas and other places.
2) At least 1 police liaison on campus full-time. Today I saw at least 3, with 2 cruisers parked in front of 2 of the main entrances.
3) We have a school of approximately 5000 people - but we only have 4 access points, all manned with security full-time. These folks are not armed, but they have walkie talkies and immediate communication with our security apparatus.
4) We have a constant security force that is stationed throughout the school. In addition to the 4 at the entrances, there are 2 stationed in the main commons along with Deans as well as security wandering the halls. I am not even sure how many we employ.
5) Between periods, we have students that walk outside because the building is huge. We have a pickup truck that parks during those times to block any car that would want to 'ram' through this pathway and to monitor students walking about.
6) All adults in the building must wear a visible badge. Guests get a temp badge at entrance points using a driver's license scan.
7) All classroom doors are opened and locked by staff ID cards. They are also set to auto lock in case of a "code red" situation. This might've helped avoid the death of 1 teacher in Florida that was shot ushering kids into his room and possibly working to lock the door from the outside with a key.

Some things we do not have that should be considered:
1) When classes begin, all doors should lock for the day restricting unauthorized personnel unless buzzed in.
2) Increased security staff with training and access to arms in an emergency - teachers or otherwise. While I don't necessarily want armed teachers, I'd be okay with an extra police liaison or 2 assigned to our school full-time. Also, I have seen suggestions that schools put biometric safes throughout the school with access to a weapon by any staff that wants to go through full security and training yearly. I don't know how I feel about that, but I also know that I'm willing to listen to any potential move to increase security for our kids.
3) Yearly mental health screening for teens in junior high and high school - like vision and hearing screening is done in elementary.
4) Metal detectors.

What am I missing? What have you seen at your schools?

Of course, this plan would need to be funded. But maybe, if we're not challenging the 2nd amendment and maybe if we put aside partisan politics, through local business donations, NRA donations, and government funding, we can

make our schools as safe as possible for our kids.

I realize this doesn't solve the gun debate; however, while that debate continues to go around in circles as it has for 19+ years since Columbine - through both democratic and republican administrations - we can take matters into our own hands immediately and make a difference.

I know I'm going to be writing my local school administrators for an inventory of security measures in place.

If you think it's a good idea, maybe you will too - for our children and to honor the memory of the victims and heroes that have lost their lives in school shootings over the last 19 years.

#AmericanHeroes
#ForMSDHS