Last month, my colleagues and I at Georgia Gwinnett College led a field trip to the General Assembly. Students had the opportunity to witness debate on an important —- albeit misguided —- proposed law: one permitting many Georgians to keep guns in their cars at work.

When our three-hour visit was over, the gun bill, House Bill 89, had passed the Senate by a wide majority. Another measure is in the works that would allow guns on college campuses.

It strikes me as terribly hypocritical that the men and women trying to expand on the "right to bear arms" can feel reasonably safe from gun violence, at least at work. After all, upon entering the Capitol, one must pass through metal detectors and submit to a purse search. The hallways are filled with state troopers; I presume any outburst would be met with a quick counter-reaction.

The rest of us, however, aren't as protected. And we aren't going to feel safer knowing that some of our colleagues or students can pack heat —- even if our lawmakers think that it's for our own protection. I was trained to decipher documents in musty archives and bring history alive for my students, not to brandish a pistol.

On our brand-new campus, like every one I've studied at or worked at, people can pass through and walk around freely —- as they should. This is what makes college life so wonderful; the openness creates a sense of community that fosters friendships and learning.

Although there are a handful of campus police cruisers with watchful officers, they are widely dispersed. If someone entered one of our college buildings armed and dangerous, I doubt much could be done to stop them. By the time police responded, I'm sure the scene would be similar to the bloody massacres at Virginia Tech and Northern Illinois University.

So why, in the midst of an epidemic of campus mass killings, are our elected representatives fostering gun ownership and greater prevalence of dangerous weapons?

Before I started my career as a professor, I was a newspaper reporter and covered some dangerous neighborhoods where drug dealing was commonplace. When I earned my doctorate, I never envisioned that sedate campuses could present similar hazards.

What I hadn't taken into account is that we routinely encounter a good number of mentally ill students. Even the most "normal"-seeming high school students can find themselves depressed or anxious when making the big leap to college. Moreover, early adulthood is prime time for first diagnosis of serious illnesses such as bipolar disease.

I want to reassure parents that most professors and college administrators are diligent in referring these students for counseling. Yet there really is only so much we can do.

Only a couple of my troubled students have threatened me verbally or with bizarre behavior. They presented a far greater danger to themselves. However, my blood runs cold to think that one of these students could be another Seung-Hui Cho or Steven Kazmierczak, men with psychiatric problems freely able to bring powerful weapons on campus.

We've seen that whatever controls have been established over gun use are woefully unsuccessful at keeping guns out of the hands of deranged folks. If, as the gun lobby and its supporters assure us, more guns are needed out there to protect us from the bad guys, why does the accessibility of these weapons lead to more tales of horror?

Here in Georgia, we can still stop this legislation in its tracks. The best way to honor the students killed in Virginia and Illinois is not to offer platitudes about their martyrdom. Rather, let's prevent our own students from becoming the next victims by working to curtail gun availability.

> Ellen C. Rafshoon teaches at Georgia Gwinnett College.

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