As an American, it’s easy to be cynical about knife crime in the United Kingdom. I’m here right now, and already I’ve seen multiple TV news segments about all the stabbings and threats of stabbings with knives and machetes. When I saw a BBC report with the chyron “Knives: can we end the violence?” my gut Yank instinct was to think, “Oh, England. You’re adorable that you’re only worried about one-on-one knife attacks. Try living every fucking day of your life damned to be in a country where mass shootings happen with a frequency approaching hourly.”
Last night, I saw the play Dismissed at the Soho Theatre, which I disliked a great deal for being didactic and over-directed and more. But it sure seemed to be relevant to the nodding audience. It’s about a teacher reporting a student who brought a knife to school, and her agony and guilt over the boy’s coming expulsion. Now, in the US, schools do freak out over any weapon brought to school property, even in a student’s car. Hell, they freak out over Advil. But, again, I thought, “Damn, must be nice to live in a place where that knife is the worst of your worries on school grounds.”
