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Some of you will have learned from news reports that there was a shooting incident at the University of Texas early Tuesday morning. Some of you know that UT is where I took my second degree. Short form: the shooter fired off various rounds at the ground or in the air with an AK47, not shooting at anyone, and then went upstairs in one of the libraries and shot himself. No one else was hurt. He didn’t menace anyone (other than scaring them simply by firing such a weapon, and bringing on a several hours’ lockdown and the appearance on campus of even scarier people.)
He was a 19 year old sophomore math major, an honor graduate of a local high school, considered quiet but very intelligent and pleasant by his high school classmates, helpful to students having trouble with math.
We live almost 50 miles away. Our son, in the same city, attends a community college miles away from the university. So technically…why am I still shaken and grieving…because I am.
I was once 19. Nineteen was, on the whole, a miserable year, a year of humiliation (I’d been given a year of academic suspension, to “reconsider your educational objectives” after a freshman year of multiple failures.) I had no Plan B. Plan A–the plan to take my outstanding high school grades, graduate from a top college, and escape forever from the confines of my past…Plan A lost both wings, crashed, and burned. So I spent most of my 19th year taking secretarial classes at Massey Business College in Houston and living in misery and fear. I did finally, with the help of friends and sheer stubbornness, begin to construct a Plan B out of very flimsy material.
Whatever Plan A the UT shooter had, and I’m sure a kid like that had a Plan A, something went badly awry and he could see no Plan B in his future. Something destroyed his confidence, his belief that his future was worth living. And yet…unlike so many others, who have rage as well as despair driving them…this young man very clearly had no intent to hurt the people he was scaring. (Whether he realized the hurt he was inflicting on his family and friends, we can’t know at this time.) Did he hope by walking/running around with a big scary weapon and firing it that someone would shoot him? Put him out of his misery and it wouldn’t be his fault? Or was the AK47 and the loud bangs a way of hyping himself up for his single killing–himself? Or was it a psychotic break, delusions and the strange illogic of schizophrenia, driving him? We don’t know. We may never know. And it’s a tragedy. Surely there was a way for such an intelligent young man–such a principled young man in the sense that he killed no one else–to discover or invent a Plan B.
What is stopping me in my tracks in the writing with this–what held me so immobile for hours this morning, was both my own sharply remembered misery at that age and the fact that I’d been writing a POV of just about that age, in which the character’s Plan A has come to bits all around him and threatens not just him but his family and his world.
So there’s yet again another delay, this time the result of real-life. The advantage of being my age, in real life, and not 19 anymore, is that I know it’s possible to survive not having a Plan B–it’s possible cobble up a Plan B (and Plan C, and Plan D, and as many as you need) if you just don’t pull the trigger. My Plan A vanished in my failure…so for that matter did Plan B and Plan C, in other failures…but if I had not kept slogging on, whatever I have accomplished with Plan…um…probably R or S or T…would not have been accomplished.
I suspect that Colton Tooley, had he found a way to dig his fingernails into whatever cliff he clung to a little longer, might have realized that he didn’t have to die…and might have contributed more than the memory of his failure. I wish his spirit peace, and his family eventual solace.
Comment by genko — September 29, 2010 @ 10:32 am
Amen.
Comment by genko — September 29, 2010 @ 10:37 am
And, of course, there’s plenty more to say. It’s a shame that we don’t find some way to affirm children to themselves as people, human beings, who sometimes fail, and it’s okay. It’s a shame that we don’t give them the tools to recognize that sometimes things fall apart, and that can open doorways to even better things.
I say this as a person who has had my world falling apart around me, and who is beginning to see how necessary that process is, how ultimately affirming that process is, and wishing I had learned a few decades earlier that life isn’t nearly as black-and-white as I thought it was.
Thanks for posting this, Elizabeth.
Comment by elizabeth — September 29, 2010 @ 11:17 am
I think of all the young people who, going off to college, find that they aren’t who they thought they were, or who their families thought they were–that the talents that made them superstars in high school are only “pretty good” in college–that the beliefs and culture they grew up with are not the only ones around–and then think meaning has vanished and there’s nothing ahead but pain, and no relief but death.
I failed fairly spectacularly in my freshman year…but surviving that failure taught me that failure is survivable. It’s not forever (though in a way it is, because you sure don’t forget it!) I witnessed suicide attempts (and later, while in EMS, successful suicides, all messy.)
I have no problem, personally, with people facing a terminal illness that’s sapping money and energy from the family–esp. those things that destroy the personality, the identity, before the body dies–and who decide on suicide before that happens. Nor do I think that decision, in an adult (esp. an older one) is a sign of mental illness. But at the other end is the person who is mentally ill, chronically or temporarily, or too young or inexperienced to see that there is an alternative…not an easy one, maybe, but a viable way to make a decent life for themselves–less pain for them, and a contribution to the world that will help others.
This is the tragedy. I don’t know–and I don’t know if anyone knows–of any way to prevent all such tragedies. I am convinced that individuals and families and societies that do not talk about feelings, or allow feelings to be talked about, are more at risk, because they’ve just put into the lockbox the clues that indicate someone needs help.
I’m able to write some today, but I’m staying away from that teenage POV for another day or so. I would be writing it as if the character were the shooter (but still alive) and that would warp things badly.
Comment by Alaska Fan — September 30, 2010 @ 12:19 am
A very thoughtful post and comment. Many decades ago, I was lucky enough to hear Bob Heinlein speak. He was the guest speaker at an International Science Fair. He talked about how his tuberculosis had forced him to abandon the naval officer career he loved and had set for himself; his story wasn’t that different from yours.
One difference today is that firearms are everywhere, and what might have been a tough period becomes a suicide. Another is that too often parents’ expectations are so unrealistic. Think of that scene in “Parenthood,” with Rick Moranis talking to his daughter. We laughed at that scene because it was true.
All that potential, gone forever. It goes far beyond sadness.
Comment by Adam Baker — September 30, 2010 @ 6:40 am
Such a tragic situation.
It seems like college life comes as such an earth shattering shock to so many new students.
I went straight to the local community college straight when I graduated from high school in 1998, which, in retrospect, was probably not such a good idea.
I went in with lots of plans and ideas on which direction I wanted to go, and it just kind of floundered. I failed several classes, took classes I didnt need to take, and in general just wasted a lot of time and money. I think I spent 5 years taking classes at the Comm. College before getting tired of being there and moved on to the University of NC @ Charlotte to work on a Mech. Engineering degree, w/o ever having earned a degree at the comm. college.
I spent 5 semesters at UNCC before finally being asked to take a vacation from the university for awhile. By this point I was so burned out, and disappointed, and frustrated, that like so many college students, I was lost and didnt know what to do. I felt like I had spent all this time, and a boat load of money, and had absolutely nothing to show for it.
Thankfully I was able to come home, regroup as best as I could, and start working on the non-existent Plan B.
I got married the August after leaving UNCC, which I think helped a lot. I had the love and support of a wonderful woman, as well as my family, which helped give me the direction I needed; direction & guidance that apparently this young man either didnt have, or felt like he didnt have.
I never once considered the route this young man had, but at the lowest times, there were fleeting moments of what if… but I was able to get past that, knowing thoughts like that do not produce positive motion and definitely do not help anyone involved. I started working on getting things back to the way they needed to be.
I still havent earned my Mech. Engr. degree, but I did finally manage this past May to complete the Assoc. Degree I started in 1998, and I also managed to earn an Assoc. Degree in Machining Tech after leaving UNCC and getting married. Because of these degree’s I have finally started what I feel is my career, doing work I enjoy, so I feel that I was able to successfully put together my Plan B and move on with my life.
Comment by elizabeth — September 30, 2010 @ 7:48 am
Congratulations on keeping at it, Adam, and on your success in recovering from a very difficult transition time.
Comment by elizabeth — September 30, 2010 @ 7:54 am
Beyond sadness, indeed.
Comment by JoeS — September 30, 2010 @ 11:14 pm
Colton may’ve been doing all he could just to hang on perhaps having nothing left to find his own way out of darkness. Sometimes all that saves you is being too depressed to go find a gun. Given the wrong state of mind, resolve and purpose can be your worst enemy.
I wish that Colton had used the strength he obviously had to find another way.
Facing despair at age 19 is a story you’ve told before (Paks in the dungeon for example). Sometimes characters just don’t give you the time you need to plot a way around a chasm like that. Sad, but the way he did it didn’t given anyone a chance to help. Wish you better luck and more time with fictional despair.
Comment by Kristen B. — October 1, 2010 @ 7:13 am
This makes me so profoundly sad. I’m glad you (and many others) survived … but wish someone could have thrown this young man a lifeline. My son is fast approaching this time of life, and I just hope and pray that he’ll never get to the point Colton did. so sad.
KB
Comment by Kristen B. — October 1, 2010 @ 7:25 am
Several people on my FB have been discussing suicide … personal experience and a viral message to LGBT kids. Would you mind if I posted a link to this excellent essay on my FB?
Comment by elizabeth — October 1, 2010 @ 9:15 am
Thinking back to my own time and our concerns about our son–I think one important concept to get across is that failure (whether external or perceived internal) is survivable. Humiliation is survivable. Shame is survivable. If we as parents can model, and discuss, the ways in which we (and others) have made it through failure and difficulty–not in a pep-rally coach-speak way, but a problem-solving way, I think that might help some (not all.) And we could do a better job (maybe) of changing what our kids think is “funny” and “just a prank” when they do it to others. More than one suicide in college age kids is precipitated by the cruel (“but it was just a joke!“) of other kids. In a discussion of this incident with friends last evening, I heard several more stories of suicides brought on by roommate/dorm corridor cruelty, one now 30-odd years in the past, others recent. Modern technology makes it very easy to cause a heap-o-pain with covert recording, for instance, and changes in the law make it harder for university dorms to maintain any kind of healthy, safe, standards of group behavior. (And they weren’t perfect before.) The amount of “street smarts” and emotional resilience we parents are supposed to stuff into kids when they’re developmentally unready to absorb and use it is…a problem. For kids who mature more slowly (and that includes a lot of smart kids) it’s a scary period for kid and parent both.
Comment by elizabeth — October 1, 2010 @ 9:21 am
Not at all, Kristen. I’m mulling over another essay (would be on LJ if I get it done) that tries to suggest some ways to use the same shovel that dug the hole as a tool for getting out. How to make your own Plan B even after the fact, and how to create a toolkit that will make Plans C through Q (or later) easier to build when the previous plan goes *poof*.
Comment by Kristen B. — October 1, 2010 @ 9:38 am
Thanks, Elizabeth! One of the trickier bits seems to be wanting to help and wanting to respect my “child” as an developing adult. And, unfortunately, some lessons really are learned best the hard way … including standing up, dusting off the pants, and trying again and again and again. I want to be more than cheerleader, but not a helicopter parent either.
Comment by elizabeth — October 1, 2010 @ 10:18 am
You’re absolutely right, Kristen–it’s a very tricky balancing act, and most of us do it wrong at least part of the time–I certainly have. Little kids usually start out incredibly brave and determined–all of ’em fall down when learning to walk, and they all struggle up and try again, even if they’re crying.
I think they learn “giving up” from the social pressure to conform that starts soon after that. We want them to “give up” trying to play with matches, run in the street without paying attention to traffic, etc. We want them to accept as flavorful and healthy whatever foods we give them, as comfortable and appropriate whatever clothes we provide, as sensible whatever our rules are, as important whatever values we impart. And some of that is necessary–we are social creatures; we are not whole without some social structure in which to grow. But somewhere in the process they learn to believe other people (even us, occasionally) when they shouldn’t, for their own health and survival. As Alice Miller wrote in her book For Your Own Good, society routinely denies children’s reality for adult convenience and comfort…thus producing adults who deny one another’s realities…who will deny facts because it doesn’t fit their model. The child isn’t really in that much pain–he’s just trying to manipulate us. The bully isn’t really doing any harm–the victim is just too sensitive.
In the really rigid households and schools and faith communities and social groups and cultures, each child is handed a single Plan A, the One Right Way to grow up and be. Whatever the child knows that doesn’t fit must be suppressed–ideally, completely rooted out, but that doesn’t always work. The child for whom that Plan A is impossible becomes the hated outcast–is ridiculed, scorned, even, in some cases, deliberately killed, and in others driven to kill himself/herself because the One Right Way says there is no alternative to Plan A. (There are often two Plan As…one for boys, and one for girls. Sometimes there are also different Plan As for children of different hereditary social classes. But for each child, only one Plan A.)
We don’t expect kids to learn to drive a car, or butcher a deer, or build a structure that will stand up to weather for twenty years without instruction. We know that any of these complicated tasks can cause injury or death if done wrong. But the specific skills of handling life’s emotional challenges–how to step back and assess the problem, including oneself as a participant in it, what sorts of tangles are best handled by compromise and what sort require separation from the tangle, damage control, etc–we (and by that I mean the whole force of society, not just parents, who may be fighting against the current) tend to “teach” with a set of inadequate rote rules or “not teach” with vague encouragement.
It’s not easy. We don’t know all the parameters yet. And there’s a heckuva lot of resistance to opening the dialogue.
Comment by Kristen B. — October 1, 2010 @ 10:49 am
Yes. Danger, Will Robinson – neglecting emotional well being can be as dangerous as letting a toddler use power tools. I agree wholeheartedly about it being not easy, and not knowing parameters. In fact, I suspect parameters differ with each and every child.
I also suspect that our society is losing its ability to have meaningful, healthy dialogue in the public sphere. We can no longer agree to disagree. So, kids/students who are plugged into the media-verse, hear only polarized polemic … from either side of any debate. Compromise and adaptation is not a skill that appears to have any value in society, despite it’s crucial place in survival. They think they know what Plan A is, hardly suspecting the existence of Plans B – Z. and more.
Counter-culture seems to be the wisest path to healthy adulthood, but on the other hand, it’s inimical to the adolescent pressure to Fit In. I’m still being given a hard time for refusing to purchase a handheld gaming system of any kind, at any time. Do I want my kids to be “have nots?” not necessarily. But, I don’t want either of them spending ever more time lost in a screen.
Thanks for the opportunity to discuss these scary parenting – and social – issues. It’s good to know there are others who think and feel as I do.
Kristen