Tolerance in a town like Longmont, a town voraciously proud of its conservative leanings, was incredibly hard to find, even for adults. Locals repeatedly ripped Clinton campaign posters from my fence during the election years. My car was regularly egged for sporting bumper stickers celebrating dinosaurs or Darwin or personal choice. My newspaper editorials supporting hospice care for AIDS victims or countering the school district's abstinence-only approach to high school sex education were answered with scathing hate mail draped in condemnation and "prayer." I endured it -- even occasionally relished the challenge. But for young people struggling with personal uncertainty, the intolerance could be overwhelming.

Soon after this episode, my daughter experienced her own emotional problems. The stress of her relationship with Trevor combined with my divorce from her father sent her grades into a downward spiral. She refused to go to class. Instead, she sat home with me, watching me write, or sleeping. She wasn't wandering the streets seeking mayhem. She was struggling with teen depression. And I was struggling to help her find her way through it. When I finally met with her school administrators, they could offer no real plans or possible solutions.

"Kerry is a good girl," I told the vice-principal in charge of attendance.

"What, on Tuesdays and Thursdays?" he replied in a caustic tone, as my daughter stood by my side.

We decided a move was her best chance at reinvention. We headed for the Pacific Northwest. Our first meeting with the Spokane School District offered a hopeful contrast. Kerry's grades were discouraging, they agreed, but they were confident Spokane's alternative high school program would help her find her way back. Within days, she was one of 15 sophomores under the compassionate care of a hand-picked, specially trained teacher. She was suddenly happy, eager to go to class, eager to make new friends, eager to succeed in an atmosphere that celebrated her distinctive light, rather than trying to extinguish it. If all goes well, she should re-enter a traditional high school in the fall of 1999 as a full-credit junior with a second chance to excel. I have my doubts whether this could have happened in Longmont.

While other people wonder how such violence could have happened in Littleton, it doesn't surprise me all that much. My experience in nearby Longmont, where the community is very similar to that in Littleton, has given me a little insight. Perhaps Littleton educators, therapists and parents who were in a position to notice and help two severely troubled teenagers weren't willing to take action. Perhaps they didn't want to listen to the pain cloaked in black rebellion. It was easier to stamp the two as "losers" and move on to more "promising" youth.

Tragically, more than a dozen of Columbine's promising stars may have paid for this possible oversight with their lives. If opportunity and encouragement had been offered with a more even hand, even to the outcasts, would things have been different in Littleton? Who knows. Bad things happen, even in the active pursuit of good. But a friend once told me that when it comes to teenagers in trouble, it's better to err and care on the side of safety than to hesitate and watch disaster reign. Now, more than ever, I agree.
salon.com | April 30, 1999

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