Today this youth shooting class popped up in my email and gave me pause. Lots of conflicting thoughts. I am very much for education around firearms. Anyone who gets a license should go through the same sort of test people driving a car are required to pass.
The class looks really good. I mean, I’d love to take it. Kids between 8 and 16 learning marksmanship at an indoor range under the guidance of professionals. Parents are encouraged to be present. Everything about it is responsible, educational, and technically well executed. Safety first!
And still—it just made me queasy.
I don’t have a problem with teaching kids how to shoot. I understand the value of marksmanship. I understand the importance of safety training. I’ve got no moral opposition to children learning how to handle firearms in a structured environment. Kids raised around responsible gun culture often have a healthier respect for firearms than kids who only interact with guns through say video games or media.
But something about this feels off.
Maybe it’s the setting. Not outdoors, not on a farm, not tied to any cultural tradition like hunting. It’s inside. Lined-up stalls. Targets downrange. It feels clinical, tactical—even a little militarized. Like training, not sport.
Maybe it’s the timing. We live in a country where kids are more likely to die by gunfire than any other cause. Where “active shooter drills” are part of the school calendar. Where the kids in this class are referred to as “bright-eyed new shooters”.
So while the class itself might be innocent—even admirable—it exists in this America. Right now. And in that context, it doesn’t just look like education.
It looks like preparation.
Like we’re handing our kids the tools to survive a world we’ve decided not to fix.
That’s what’s bothering me. Not the marksmanship. Not the firearms.
The feeling that this might not be about sport anymore.
This might be about surrender.
We’re preparing kids to live in a dangerous world, but not fighting hard enough to make the world less dangerous. We’re teaching safety in a system that won’t keep them safe. And that contradiction sits heavy.
It’s not an easy answer. It’s a hard feeling. But it’s worth sitting with.
Because maybe it’s time we ask:
Are we building resilience? Or just teaching kids to accept a broken reality?
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