About an hour before school began on Monday of this past week, I was hit with a flurry of text messages from a few football players telling me that there was graffiti all over the campus that threatened a school shooting that day…at noon to be precise.

Many of them wanted to know what to do.  Is school safe?  Should I go home?  

Upon walking on campus and seeing the graffiti myself, my gut told me that this was just some stupid prank by some stupid kid.  I watched our administration move in a flurry, walking and talking with police and examining the threats spray-painted on our walls and now etched on our minds.

My next thought was our students and players.  I sent a text to our team leaders: “Hey guys.  Don’t worry.  There are police everywhere.  This is a safe place right now.  Plus, this is where men need to be–protecting their community.”

After speaking with some other teachers and learning that school would not be cancelled, I opened my classroom doors to let students know that we are open for business.  Most students had already vanished, excused and picked up by their parents.  They spent the day at home while the remaining few spent awkward hours with their teachers behind carefully guarded doors and gates.

It was an abnormal day at school, wasted and thrown into chaos by some punk.  We were left twiddling our thumbs, and found ourselves smack in the middle of the annual gun and safety debate–more guns?  less guns?  stricter background checks?  armed teachers?  And while most of the nation made emotional pleas that most likely will never be enacted into law by politicians who focus on short term policies, my mind focused mostly on my football players…most of whom went home before school even began.

Some of my colleagues also took off, understandably interested in self-preservation and to make sure they were around for their families.  I thought, hmm, should I get out of here, too?  What if this wasn’t a prank and there WAS a shooter?  Is my responsibility to stay safe so I can be there for be wife and kids?  Or do I stay, regardless, because if shit goes down, I will be needed here to look after the kids who remain?  I thought of the Travis Manion Foundation’s credo: IF NOT ME, WHO?

I, and many others, made the choice to stay.

Fortunately, as expected, the threat wasn’t credible, and the rest of the day was quiet.  But the question remained in my mind all day: What does a man do when there is a threat?

As the day went on, I thought of many things.  I thought of a story I read in the book Warrior Ethos, in which the author recounts a story of Spartan soldiers who had fled battle and returned home.  They were met by their mothers who lifted up their skirts and shouted, You’re not going back in here, so you better turn around!  The other famous Spartan adage is “You return either with your shield or on it.”  Is this the measure of a man?  When there is a threat, men don’t run; we stay and fight, right?

In the book Tribes, I was reminded how, anthropologically speaking, we are tribal people, depending on relationships with those in our tribe for safety and security.  If our tribe is under attack, it is the man’s job to protect the tribe, right?

As I got to my football class, the last period of the day, only about 8 of my 50 football players had stuck it out.  A few others had returned once the threat had passed.  I was initially pissed.  What are we teaching our young men?  Is this what we want our boys to do–flee at the first sign of danger?

I went home with a flurry of thoughts going through my head.  I wanted to address my team the next day and talk about this and ask them: where the heck were you guys?  If things go badly, are you going to be the first to run, or are you going to stay and make sure others are safe?  I wanted to challenge them to stand firm in the face of danger, man up, and protect others.

I thought more about this throughout the night, and finally came to a few realizations.  First, these are kids.  They were scared (as many adults also rightfully were), and didn’t know what to do.  Their instincts said, Escape.  And I get that.  Expecting them to face dangerous threats is probably unrealistic and unfair.  I decided to give them a break.  But second, and more importantly, that there are different ways to protect a community other than physically, but that would still require just as much courage as facing threats.

So, the next day, I and the other male coaches at the school gathered all varsity male student-athletes (the group that gets together once a month to hear speakers talk about being a Man of Character).  We directly challenged them, as men, to protect our school community and help keep it safe–not necessarily as Rambo type heroes who run towards bullets–but by recognizing threats to our safety and taking action.  We spoke to them about looking out for problems that threaten the wellness of our community—whether it be a kid who is eating lunch alone, or a bully who is insulting others, or someone who is making threats—and take action.  And that to do so takes real courage.  Whether it is facing down a school shooter, or facing down a jerk picking on another kid, we implored them to have the courage to stand firm and do what is right for the good of your community…even if that makes us uncomfortable.  Because that is what men do.

What I realized through all of this is that a man’s job is to protect his tribe; not look away when there are threats to its well being.  That there are many ways to protect a tribe.  Not just physically during the worst possible scenario, but during all of the other times when problems arise.  And really this responsibility requires nothing but courage–the willingness to do what is needed when we are afraid.  This courage is something that all of us have within.  We just have the make the decision to act.