My first article explored my transition from Mexican schools to American ones.

Today, I want to address the question I am asked most often, having been raised and schooled in Mexico: Is it safe for students to attend school here?

“Attention, this is a lockdown drill. Please remain in your classrooms and lock the doors.” For many students across the United States, these words have become an all-too-familiar refrain.

At my high school in California, lockdown drills are an annoyingly regular part of life, prompted by the grim reality of school shootings. In 2025, the K-12 School Shooting Database Omnilert recorded 233 school shooting incidents, although totals vary significantly depending on how a “school shooting” is defined.

It wasn’t until I moved to California that lockdown drills became a part of my school experience. In Mexico, where I attended school until I was 15, school shootings are practically unheard of. I still remember my first drill, two weeks into sophomore year. I was in English class when an unfamiliar voice blared over the speakers, telling us to turn off the lights, lock the doors and sit silently in the back of the classroom. Confusion was written all over my face, but not because of the drill. When I looked around, everyone else seemed completely unfazed, having seemingly done this hundreds of times before.

After that, I started to notice just how normal it all was. School shootings were mentioned in assemblies, safety procedures were constantly reviewed and we had around five more lockdown drills just that year. Everyone seemed to understand the seriousness of the issue after hearing about it constantly throughout their young lives.

Ironically, when I tell my American friends I grew up in Mexico, their first question is almost always about safety.

Yes, cartels and corruption do exist in Mexico. But no, I have never witnessed a murder, been threatened or traveled to school in a bulletproof car. As a student growing up in San Miguel de Allende, I never faced that kind of danger.

What sets the United States apart (and makes questions about safety in Mexico feel so ironic) is that school shootings are not a predictable kind of danger. They are random, devastating and disturbingly common acts of violence that can shatter the lives of innocent people because of the actions of a single individual.

As a student who attended private, not public, schools in both Mexico and the United States, I recognize that my experience is not the norm. Even so, comparing two similarly resourced educational environments has allowed me to notice clear differences in how school safety is experienced in each country.

My schools here in Mexico were overly cautious, if anything. The bilingual school I attended from fourth through ninth grade, Colegio Newland, had guard dogs protecting the grounds at night and a QR code system for students and adults entering campus each day. I never once felt my safety was threatened at school. 

And this focus on safety isn’t limited to the private schools I attended. The Guanajuato Education Ministry provides both public and private schools with protocols for emergencies ranging from evacuations and violence to armed individuals and shootings. Schools are also encouraged to assess risks, create safety plans and regularly practice how to respond.

By contrast, my California boarding school has security guards and locks its front gates at night, but it lacks the advanced measures I grew accustomed to in Mexico. Last year, our classes were even canceled for a day because a neighboring school received a bomb threat. Even so, lockdown drills are routine. 

When I lived in Mexico, my friends and I spent most afternoons in the center of San Miguel, getting esquites, papas preparadas, even Starbucks. We stayed out late and would walk home together, yet I never felt unsafe. I used to think that was because I always had my twin brother around, but after moving to the United States, I realized he wasn’t scaring anyone away.

In California, my friends and I spent many weekends in San Francisco. Once, while riding a bus near the Financial District, a fight broke out and quickly became violent. It felt like I was rewatching Fight Club, except there was no Brad Pitt. The people involved kept running on and off the bus, screaming at each other. My friends and I, all international students, watched in horror. But when I looked around, my confusion came back because I noticed the same thing had happened again: everyone else appeared completely unfazed.

Danger should never feel normal, yet the nonchalance of my classmates and the people on that bus made me realize just how normalized it can become after frequent exposure.

Now, that’s not to say San Francisco is unsafe and Mexican cities aren’t. But I’ve spent plenty of time in Mexico City, a huge city with a rough reputation in some places, and the worst violence I’ve experienced was a man winking at me on the street. 

Nonetheless, it is important to acknowledge that my experience is not representative of every part of Mexico. The country faces very real security challenges, and many communities experience them far more directly than I ever did.

Mexico is my home, and hearing people automatically associate it with danger is beyond frustrating. Not just because I love the country and its people, but because it isn’t the Mexico I know. My experience isn’t everyone’s, but it has shown me how easily stereotypes can shape the way people see a place they’ve never lived in or even been to. That’s why, whenever someone assumes Mexico is too dangerous to raise a family or attend school, I feel the need to tell them about the home I know instead. 

Zella Golden grew up in San Miguel de Allende and is a senior in high school in Marin, California. Golden is completing an internship with MND.