In the wake of the Moscow siege, memories of Beslan linger with fear and a longing to prevent repetition. For many, the core concern centers on children. Across cities, parents pressure schools to adopt distance learning, while educational institutions promise heightened security during holidays. Teachers anticipate new anti-terror drills, and the atmosphere is thick with worry. People want to know how prepared children’s institutions are for different emergencies today.
Doubts creep in about whether adults can support children in kindergartens, schools, and youth centers if danger arises. Even in past crises, like the Crocus City Hall incident, children faced potential harm then as well.
Public concern directed anger at the Dance Sports Federation after a competition was held in a venue adjacent to the concert hall that had been seized by attackers. More than 1,500 young dancers from across the country attended the tournament. Eyewitnesses reported that organizers did not evacuate children promptly after gunfire.
Fortunately, no one was injured. Organizers offered explanations, saying their aim was to prevent panic and crowd crush. They coordinated with the rescue service, which advised locking doors. When it became clear a fire was nearby, evacuation began, though it took about 20 minutes. Large groups became confused, roaming the corridors in search of exits. In the end, the outcome was not catastrophic, but a lingering sense of unease persisted.
Reports from Yekaterinburg followed, revealing that an urgent check of schools and kindergartens uncovered serious gaps in security readiness. Of 675 institutions, only nine met all requirements. Alarm systems were present in 49 percent of schools and 52 percent of kindergartens, while evacuation control systems existed in 75 percent of schools and 66.9 percent of kindergartens. The question remains how such gaps can be accepted as acceptable realities.
Beyond buildings, questions arise about the people who operate them. How capable are staff members of guiding children through danger? Have educational workers received sufficient training for horrific scenarios?
From a teacher in a regular district school, a practical perspective emerges. Regular drills are held, with memorized evacuation routes and clear protocols for barricades during gunfire. Children learn early that in a fire they should abandon belongings, including our phones which are placed in a dedicated box before class. Even if it is cold outside, the takeaway remains practical: students can leave the building in about three minutes during drills.
Yet drills are simplified scenarios. Real emergencies involve collapsed structures, thick smoke, and injured people needing first aid. No one can predict how such events unfold in reality, and the human response can vary dramatically. Some freeze, others panic, some become disoriented and lose track of their surroundings, while a few keep a cool head and help others. The latter are episodes of hope and inspiration.
The courage of cloakroom attendants at the Crocus complex stands out when they guided frightened youths toward an emergency exit with calm, steady resolve. The temperament and self-control of these men were remarkable and deeply commendable.
There are numerous stories of teachers showing extraordinary bravery. In one mass shooting, a teacher protected students and was critically injured; in another incident, a teacher gave his life protecting pupils. Such acts contribute to a broader sense of faith in humanity, even though they echo the grave costs of tragedy.
Still, expecting universal preparedness is not realistic. People respond in unpredictable ways when a tragedy strikes, and no one can truly be ready for the moment they face it. The aim, then, is to equip communities with practical preparedness rather than promise flawless actions from every individual.
While worry will persist, it is likely that schools will introduce unplanned safety lessons and heightened vigilance. Parents will feel compelled to reassess arrangements, remembering past miscommunications and false alarms that once sparked public outrage. In one era, inaccurate mine-hazard reports left children returning home in winter wearing light shoes and without backpacks, an unintended exercise in safety education that also stirred public anger. Yet that experience did lead to additional learning for many students.
Today the reality is admitting that danger exists and accepting that it cannot be entirely eliminated. Rather than retreating behind closed doors or delegating security solely to specialized responders, communities should cultivate a shared understanding that it is necessary to learn how to react when the unexpected occurs. The goal is practical preparation that protects everyone involved, especially the youngest learners.
In confronting these unsettling possibilities, the public must balance vigilance with perspective. The aim is to normalize safety education as part of everyday life, ensuring that children understand how to behave in uncertain situations for their own welfare and for the common good.
These reflections emphasize a broad truth: the school environment is not immune to danger, and neither is every adult who leads or cares for children. Preparedness arises from ongoing training, transparent communication, and compassionate action, rather than from fear alone. While the presence of risk cannot be fully erased, it can be diminished through deliberate, collective effort and steady, humane leadership, guiding communities toward resilience in the face of the unknown.