The shots rang out at 8:13 a.m. and echoed across the high school football field and middle school grounds. They continued for 49 minutes without a break: an AR-15 rifle, with .223 caliber bullets, ripping at 94 decibels through a community that didn’t even stop to wonder if disaster was brewing. produced in schools.

It was a typical morning in Cranston, Rhode Island, where more than 2,000 children attend school less than 500 yards from a police shooting range. There, local police officers perfect their weapons techniques, sometimes until 8:30 p.m.

Some days they shoot Glock pistols, like the guns used in mass shootings at Virginia Tech, Charleston Church, and Thousand Oaks, California. Other days, they use semi-automatic AR-15-style rifles, similar to those used in the Newtown, Connecticut, murders; Las Vegas; Parkland, Florida; Buffalo and Uvalde, Texas.

Many parents have tried unsuccessfully to move the stove to a more distant area or close it to block out disturbing noises. They have written letters in support of a bill in the state Legislature it would ban outdoor shooting ranges within a mile of schools. But police opposed the legislation, and the bill is now “reserved for further study”.

“This facility is necessary to train and qualify all members of the department with the weapons they carry in order to fulfill the mission of protecting the public,” said Police Chief Col. Michael Winquist.

Excessive noise – even general noise – disrupts the health and well-being of children, according to research, and medical experts say the sound of gunshots, which could provoke a fight-or-flight response, could be even worse.

But while many students say they remember being deeply disturbed by the shots at first — freezing, diving under desks — they now exhibit what public health experts say is a potentially more dangerous reaction: desensitization.

“I remember thinking, ‘We shouldn’t get used to this,’” said Valentina Pasquariello, who graduated in June. “But it was to the point where you have to get used to it – you have no choice.”

Sara Johnson, a professor of pediatrics at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine who has studied how guns and other chronic stressors affect child development, said the students “make the mental gymnastics to feel safe in this type of environment and make peace with it.” .”

Although the situation in Cranston is unique, Dr. Johnson and others said it reflects a country where the threat of gun violence has encroached on the daily lives of schoolchildren.

“Whether or not you go to school across the street from a gun range,” Dr. Johnson said, “you are asked to face the challenges of growing up in an environment where there are guns. »

One morning last month, the day’s first outbursts came when Maranda Carline, 17, a high school senior, was in first-period psychology class, snacking on Skittles and learning about how childhood trauma can affect development long term of a person. The sound of 50 bullets hit Maranda again as she headed to her next class at 9:01 a.m.; Another 50 arrived at 10:56 a.m., as she rushed to finish an essay on Prohibition for her midterm story.

Maranda has long memorized the steps of active shooter training, as well as solving an algebraic equation: barricade the door. Hide in the corner. If necessary, use scissors and throw out trash cans, chairs, or anything else you can find.

But her mother, Carmen Carline, wasn’t sure Maranda would follow these steps in a real-life situation, for the simple reason that she wouldn’t know it was real.

“When a gunman shows up at my child’s school and he hears the bullets and no one looks up – no one has that kind of healthy fear that makes you seek safety – that’s This is what I fear,” she said, breaking down in tears.

Asked if she found the gunshots distracting, Maranda paused, then replied, “It’s kind of reassuring, I guess, because it means there are police nearby.” »

His mother chimed in: “That’s how they sell it to kids.” »

Between the explosions that day, Cranston, a town of about 80,000, embodied the euphony of a New England fall: leaves falling in driveways, basketballs drumming on the sidewalk of cul-de-sacs ; engines hum in a Dunkin line.

Decades ago, residents said, shots from the shooting range were sporadic and quieter, like popcorn popping in the distance, as local officers learned to use handguns. But police departments have grown, as have the number of federal agencies and other groups using the range. He also studied the types of weapons – and with them, the noise.

During the Covid pandemic, adults going to work were staying home all day and couldn’t believe what they were hearing. In 2021, the range becomes a source of tension. A petition for “peace and tranquility” has been circulating.

In September 2022, residents I went to the city council with stories: the new art teacher squatting and calling for lockdown; visiting athletes at an invitational “hit the turf” competition; a resident stepping on a spent 9-millimeter shell casing in front of the high school.

Council member Jessica Marino said tradition should come first: “I think the gun range is in the right place because it’s been there for a long time,” she said.

Another board member at the time, former middle and high school student Matthew Reilly, said, “It was never a traumatic situation. “My friends and I, and I can only speak from personal experience, it never really affected us.”

The police department’s training academy applied for $1.6 million through the American Rescue Plan to close the shooting range, but the grant was denied.

The department said it reduced the number of outside groups using the booth — ending agreements with airport police and federal agencies like the FBI — and replaced sound-absorbing panels and added berms and shrubs to mitigate noise. noise.

“These are our last efforts,” said the department’s second-in-command, Maj. Todd Patalano wrote to the mayor and police chief in a February 2023 email obtained by The Times. “At this point, we will not make any further adjustments.”

For Antonella Pasquariello, a mother of three, a memory of school pick-up time plays in her head like a slow-motion movie: She pulled over in her car, rolled down her window and watched “cute little children going out for a walk from school.” , without flinching, as the sound of artillery hit the building.

She glanced at bus lines and tennis courts to “make sure bodies weren’t falling.”

Haunted by this experience, she wrote to the commissioner to ask why shooting could not be banned during school hours. She was referred to the mayor, who told her it would “take time and funding.”

Ms. Pasquariello was holding her goldendoodle, Cleo, for a walk when the shooting started again at 12:03 p.m. She listened to the sirens: No sirens, no school shooting, she said. They broke down again at 2:47 p.m., as the junior varsity Falcons took to the football field for practice, and then at 3:21 p.m., as the elementary school kids got off their buses.

When Ms. Pasquariello’s youngest son, August, came home from school, she asked him about the shooting. He said he hadn’t heard any.

At dusk, José Giusti watched his 6-year-old daughter, Gianna, cartwheel under a cacophony of bullets.

Mr. Giusti works for the City of Providence Licensing Department, which enforces noise ordinances. He and his wife, Alyssa, know that, according to research studies, children living in noisy environments have higher blood pressure, higher cortisol levels and hyperactivity. So far, Gianna seems fine.

At bedtime, Gianna moved around in her cheetah pajamas and unicorn headphones. Then her parents put her to sleep with a white noise machine to block out the sound of the gunshots.

Audio produced by Adrianne Hurst.

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