after the minnesota catholic school shooting: why i'm choosing homeschool

I can’t stop shaking when I think about what happened at Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis. On August 27, 2025, during a weekday Mass, children and parishioners gathered to pray. Instead of safety and sanctuary, they were met with gunfire. A 23-year-old, identified as Robin Westman, opened fire with multiple weapons — a rifle, shotgun, and pistol — killing two children, wounding at least 17 more people, and forever scarring a community. She then took her own life (The Guardian, People).

I am devastated. I am angry. And…

I am afraid for
my own child.

Let’s be clear: this wasn’t random violence. The FBI has opened a domestic terrorism and hate crime investigation, pointing to Westman’s anti-Christian, antisemitic, and racist writings and videos (The Guardian, IndiaTimes).

Investigators revealed that Westman scheduled pre-recorded YouTube videos to go live at the same time as the attack. The clips showed firearms, magazines, and hateful scribbles. Phrases scrawled on the ammunition included: “Kill Donald Trump”, “6 million wasn’t enough” — a sick reference to the Holocaust — along with the names of infamous mass killers like Anders Breivik and Adam Lanza.

This was not confusion. This was not a cry for help. This was premeditated, ideological violence directed at Catholics — at children — at the heart of a faith community. The FBI called it exactly what it is: a hate crime.

And that fact haunts me.

When tragedies happen elsewhere, we whisper to ourselves: “It won’t happen here.” But after Sandy Hook, after Uvalde, and now after Minneapolis, how can any parent keep believing that?

I used to think schools were a safe haven, a place where children were protected. But I can’t think that anymore. The vision of those kids in Minnesota, clutching hands, ducking behind pews, praying as bullets shattered stained glass — it shatters me, too.

I keep seeing my own child in that scene. And I can’t stomach the thought of leaving them vulnerable to a world where schools — even Catholic schools during Mass — can be targeted.

That’s when the thought crystallized: I can’t keep sending my child into a system that fails, again and again, to keep them safe.

For months, I had been dabbling with research on homeschooling. Looking at curriculums. Reading about co-ops. Wondering whether it was possible. But after Minnesota, it stopped being a what if and became a how soon.

Homeschooling isn’t about sheltering my child from reality. It’s about refusing to gamble with their life. It’s about reclaiming education as something rooted in love and safety, not in lockdown drills and constant fear.

I’ve discovered networks of Catholic homeschooling families who gather for shared learning, prayer, and activities. I’ve seen models where parents pool resources, where children still have peers, field trips, art, and sports. Homeschooling in 2025 isn’t isolation — it’s community-building on our own terms.

& I want to be
Part of that
Movement.

This decision isn’t just for me. I’ve already begun thinking about how to create something larger: a homeschool program or co-op where families can come together. A place where we don’t just react in fear, but actively build something better.

That means an education centered on critical thinking, faith, and compassion. A place where history is taught with honesty, science with wonder, and spirituality with reverence. A place where children aren’t forced to hide under desks, wondering if today is the day evil walks through the door.

It would be a sanctuary for learning. And it would be an act of resistance against a world that shrugs and tells us, “there’s nothing we can do.”

I won’t lie: I’m furious. Furious at the shooter’s writings dripping with hate. Furious that children were gunned down in a church. Furious that we live in a nation where violence against the most vulnerable keeps repeating like a nightmare on loop.

But if all I do is sit in anger, then the shooter wins. So instead, I’m choosing action. Homeschooling is my action. It’s not perfect. It’s not a solution for everyone. But it’s something tangible I can do to safeguard my child and give them a future not defined by fear.

My heart is with the families in Minnesota. With the parents who will never again tuck their kids into bed. With the children who will wake up in cold sweats, reliving the sound of gunfire in sacred space. With a community that must rebuild not only broken windows, but broken trust.

And my heart is also with Catholic families everywhere, who now look at their parish schools and wonder if they are safe. The fact that federal investigators confirmed this as a hate-motivated attack against Catholics should rattle every believer in this country (The Guardian, IndiaTimes).

Faith communities have been attacked before — in Charleston, in Pittsburgh, in Sutherland Springs. And now, Minneapolis joins that heartbreaking list.

So here is my promise:

I will not let my
child grow up
thinking that
fear is normal.

I will not keep entrusting them to institutions that cannot guarantee their safety. I will take responsibility, build community, and pursue a new path.

Homeschooling, for me, is not retreat. It is resistance. It is reclaiming power from systems that shrug at endless violence. It is an act of love, of courage, and of protection.

I may not change the world by homeschooling my child. But I will change their world. And maybe, by starting something bigger, I can help other parents do the same.

Because the truth is simple: our children deserve to learn in peace. Our faith deserves to be practiced without fear. And hate crimes like the one in Minnesota cannot be the end of the story.

Sharon Burns

Licensed English tutor specializing in high school & college support — elementary students welcome too. ✍️📚

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