The Hidden Weight of School Safety: What We Ask Educators to Carry

The tragedy at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School fundamentally changed the conversation about school safety in America. In the years that followed, school districts strengthened physical security, expanded threat assessment practices, invested in mental health resources, improved emergency preparedness, and increased the presence of law enforcement and other protective personnel on campus. Most of these changes were driven by a common goal: making schools safer for students and staff.

Yet one of the most significant changes following MSD had little to do with physical security, technology, or infrastructure. It involved the people who work inside our schools every day.

Having spent more than two decades helping schools develop safety procedures and train educators for emergencies, I have watched this evolution firsthand. Much of it has been necessary. Some of it has been overdue. What receives far less attention, however, is how dramatically educators' responsibilities have expanded as part of that effort.

"We expanded what we expect educators to do."

Teachers have always been asked to do more than teach. They spend their careers adapting lessons for different learning styles, managing classrooms, mentoring students, supporting families, and helping young people navigate challenges that extend far beyond academics. Long before school safety became a national conversation, educators were already serving as counselors, coaches, role models, and trusted adults for the students in their care.

Today, educators are also expected to recognize behavioral warning signs, understand violence-prevention strategies, support students experiencing mental health challenges, participate in threat assessment processes, and respond effectively during emergencies. These responsibilities are important and worthwhile, and schools are undoubtedly stronger because of them. At the same time, it is important to acknowledge that many of these expectations fall outside the traditional scope of educator preparation.

During training sessions, I sometimes tell educators that we are about to revisit the college course where they learned how to approach a classroom door, assess a potentially deadly threat, and make a life-or-death decision for themselves and their students. Then I pause and remind them that no such course ever existed. Most laugh, but they immediately understand the point.

"No such course ever existed."

One of the unintended consequences of the post-MSD era is that, as school safety programs became more sophisticated, so did the expectations placed upon educators. Every new procedure, training program, emergency drill, and safety initiative carried an implicit assumption that if we teach people what to do, they will be able to do it when the moment arrives. There is certainly value in that belief. Training matters. Procedures matter. Practice matters. Yet experience has taught me that there is an important distinction between understanding a response and executing it under extreme stress.

In my years as a law enforcement instructor, I have focused on preparing individuals for the chaos of crises. Yet, even for career professionals, how one functions under duress remains highly unpredictable. A workshop or a manual does not eliminate the visceral impact of fear and the fog of incomplete data. We recruit and condition police officers specifically to step toward the very threats that others are trained to avoid. Society maintains high expectations for these responders because they chose that mantle, understanding the inherent requirement to balance tactical skill with emotional resolve. If this variability in human performance is present among those who signed up for the front lines, it is undoubtedly present among the educators whose true vocation is teaching, not tactical defense.

"There is an important distinction between understanding a response and executing it under extreme stress."

One lesson reinforced repeatedly through both training and real-world events is that people process stress in remarkably different ways. Students respond differently to fear, uncertainty, and danger. Some immediately follow directions. Others require reassurance. Some freeze. Others focus on friends, siblings, or concerns that adults may not anticipate. Age, maturity, personality, prior experiences, and countless other factors influence how individuals react when confronted with danger. Adults are no different.

This reality places educators in a uniquely challenging position during an emergency. Students naturally look to trusted adults for cues. They watch facial expressions, body language, tone of voice, and confidence. If the adult appears calm and focused, students are more likely to remain calm and focused as well.

In many ways, a teacher's first responsibility during a crisis is not simply to follow a procedure but to become the emotional anchor for the students in the room. While that sounds straightforward in theory, it can be extraordinarily difficult in practice. Educators may be required to assess incomplete information, maintain classroom control, communicate clearly, monitor student behavior, and make decisions with potentially significant consequences, all within seconds and often with limited information.

"Students naturally look to trusted adults for cues."

Emergency procedures are designed to provide structure and consistency, but people experience emergencies. That reality is easy to overlook when developing plans, conducting drills, or discussing best practices. It becomes impossible to ignore when real people are forced to make real decisions under stress.

Since MSD, school districts have invested heavily in physical security. Doors are stronger. Access control systems are more sophisticated. Visitor management procedures are more rigorous. Communication systems have improved, and the presence of law enforcement and security personnel has increased in many schools. These investments matter, not simply because they help prevent threats, but because they reduce the likelihood that educators will ever be forced to perform under the most extreme circumstances. The purpose of physical security is not merely to stop bad things from happening. It is to create time, options, and layers of protection for the people inside the building. Too often, we risk confusing preparation with transformation. We show ordinary people how to do extraordinary things and then quietly assume they will be capable of extraordinary performance when the worst day of their lives arrives.

Training improves the likelihood of success. It increases confidence and creates familiarity in inherently unfamiliar situations. It helps people function more effectively under stress. What training does not do is eliminate fear, remove uncertainty, or guarantee perfect decision-making. It does not transform teachers, counselors, administrators, or support staff into crisis responders simply because they attended a workshop or completed an annual training requirement.

That reality should not discourage training. If anything, it reinforces its importance. Good procedures, repeated practice, and realistic exercises remain essential components of any effective school safety program. The hope is that they will rise to the occasion when needed, but we should set them up for success by giving them attainable skills and goals, not just hoping for the best. The more responsibilities we place upon educators, the greater our obligation becomes to ensure they have the tools, training, and support necessary to carry them. Effective safety programs must recognize the limits of training and avoid creating expectations that depend upon extraordinary performance from ordinary people.

"We show ordinary people how to do extraordinary things and then quietly assume they will be capable of extraordinary performance when the worst day of their lives arrives."

The strongest school safety programs account for human behavior rather than assuming human perfection. They recognize that people will experience fear, hesitation, stress, and uncertainty during a crisis. Rather than relying on flawless execution when everything goes wrong, they focus on creating layers of protection that reduce the likelihood that extraordinary performance will ever be required in the first place.

This is why some of the most effective safety measures often receive the least attention from the public at large, but are a top priority for state departments of education and other governing bodies. Consistently secured classroom doors, controlled access points, effective visitor management, layered security measures, reliable communication systems, and well-practiced procedures rarely generate headlines. They are not particularly exciting, and they seldom become the focus of public discussion. What they do is create time—time for staff to react, time for students to move to safety, and time for first responders to intervene.

"The strongest school safety programs account for human behavior rather than assuming human perfection."

The lessons learned since MSD have unquestionably made schools stronger. The educators I have worked with over the years have embraced these additional responsibilities with professionalism, compassion, and an unwavering commitment to their students. They do it because they care. As we continue to strengthen school safety programs, the least we can do is ensure that the expectations we place upon them are realistic, practical, and supported by systems designed to help them succeed.

Ultimately, every school safety plan depends on people. The strongest plans recognize that reality, account for human behavior, and support the individuals charged with carrying them out. The best safety systems are not built on the assumption that ordinary people will become extraordinary during a crisis. They are built to support ordinary people facing extraordinary circumstances. While locks, fences, cameras, and security personnel all play important roles, the people standing in front of students every day remain among the most important elements of school safety, and perhaps the ones carrying the greatest hidden weight of all.

This article was contributed by Lieutenant Frank Fanelli, a veteran law enforcement leader with more than 33 years of experience, including over 25 years in K–12 school policing with the School District of Palm Beach County Police Department. He has led the development and implementation of numerous school safety initiatives involving crisis response, violence prevention, emergency preparedness, school-based policing, and campus security operations. His work focuses on helping schools build practical safety systems that account for both operational realities and human behavior.