In 2004, as a 22-year-old young Marine, I found myself in Iraq guarding an intersection along with three other Marines, while our unit repaired a damaged bridge. This was a fairly common procedure, and by this point we had already done it successfully several times. There were two Marines on the ground and two in the back of Humvees armed with a belt-fed 240 gulf weapon and a standard M16.

For hours we stopped vehicles and turned them around. That was until one small white Isuzu pickup didn’t stop. The Marines on the ground yelled “stop” in both English and Arabic, but the truck didn’t stop. It was approaching slow but steadily. You could hear us all click our firearms from “safe” to “fire.” My comrade and I looked at each other and said, “Do we shoot now?” We sighted in on the driver, and again we stopped and said, “now?” The truck veered off the road and the driver jumped out with his hands up, saying, “Don’t shoot! No brakes!”

We all could breathe again.

I tell that story because our hesitation in that moment worked out. But had that been a suicide bomber, we would’ve been dead.

With that in mind, I’d ask the board members this: If four highly trained Marines can freeze in the line of duty, what makes them think that a (hypothetical) middle-aged educator could or would have the discipline, bearing, emotional control and skill after a few hours of training to avoid it? Leaving aside the psychological concerns of children attending school in a universe where teachers carry guns, how can they positively know that the teachers given that responsibility wouldn’t freeze in the face of an attacker with nothing to lose? And how can they be sure those weapons then wouldn’t become an addition to an attacker’s arsenal?

In my experience, putting the defense of the most precious things in your charge in the same room as those precious things seems counterintuitive. Imagine if the only security at Fort Knox was a man with a gun in the room of gold. Obviously that isn’t practical or even reasonable. In fact, the security always begins on the perimeter. A secure entry process, metal detectors (that are utilized), bulletproof glass, roving patrol, a monitoring system with a person or people watching it, and a clear and well-executed plan are far better and superior options.

As a father of a high school student, member of our community and a former Marine, I urge the district to rescind this policy. I understand that their hearts and the initiative were in the right place but the practicality and usefulness of this policy aren’t in the least worth the risk of the very students they’re attempting to protect. I believe clearly outlining both sides of the cost/benefit analysis is not only a right but a responsibility to the community. Thank you for your attention to this intensely important matter.

Paul Ford

Tamaqua