Last Friday marked the grim, one-year anniversary of a student’s shooting of two administrators at East High School during a weapons pat-down — one of many violent incidents in Denver schools.

The day rocked Denver Public Schools so deeply — so profoundly — that it directly resulted in the long-overdue return of law enforcement officers, known as school resource officers (SROs), to high school campuses.

Yet, as the community sought solace on a painful day of remembrance, DPS chose to remember with a vow of silence.

“A day of quiet reflection,” they called it — telling the press they would “not be providing interviews.”

“They’re tone deaf. They want to sweep everything under the rug as if nothing has happened,” Lynn, an East High mother, told me on KHOW radio Friday. “Everything’s focused on, oh, let’s have some silence, let’s talk about mental health, we’re here to help you. None of that does anything to keep our kids safe.”

Let’s be real: DPS leaders weren’t acting in some authentic, wholesome way. They were hiding — sidestepping transparency, media scrutiny and accountability just before entering spring break.

Why? What do they have to hide?

Reinstating SROs was a step forward that has already yielded some benefit. But DPS’s discipline matrix remains woefully inadequate — failing to address disruptive behavior by severely limiting consequences and handcuffing schools’ ability to involve law enforcement.

As I’ve explored many times, this has only exacerbated behavioral problems while leaving administrators hamstrung with inadequate tools for maintaining order.

Superintendent Alex Marrero persistently stalls reform, passing the buck to “Harvard experts” for almost a year. He’s deflected criticism, conflating calls to reform the matrix with opposition to equitable education — ignoring the fact that every student deserves a safe learning environment.

DPS claims we’ll get some revisions later this spring, but there’s no timeline or heads-up what will change. Meanwhile, they risk the safety of students and staff alike while leaving parents in limbo.

Despite modest funding recently allocated by the school board for security, the district isn’t investing nearly enough.

Even as DPS plans to pitch a $975 million bond to voters for security infrastructure, a paltry 2% ($17.8 million) is allocated to safety.

Marrero’s insistence on “quiet reflection” conveniently bypassed pressing questions: When will DPS finally fix its discipline matrix? Why the delay? How effective are school safety changes so far? Why is school safety such a miniscule fraction of the bond proposal?

His silence speaks volumes.

DPS, though, isn’t alone in its safety failures. Cherry Creek Schools faces its own reckoning amid a federal lawsuit that unveils a disturbing, district-wide pattern of negligence.

As I discussed last Tuesday, the complaint filed against CCSD alleges Cherry Creek High School turned a blind eye when a football star — and coach’s son — faced serious allegations of sexually assaulting a female student during school hours.

After a student is charged with, or convicted of, a violent or sexual offense, schools can suspend or expel the student or move him to another school or online learning.

Yet, even after criminal charges and an eventual guilty plea for unlawful sexual contact — alongside multiple alleged violations of a protection order the survivor obtained — the perpetrator was merely barred from playing one football game.

The district’s flimsy defense — that it happened off-campus and therefore didn’t implicate Title IX, which guides schools in handling sexual harassment and assault — rings hollow in the face of safety denied.

As Title IX attorney Igor Raykin said, “I’ve represented so many kids at CCSD who get expelled for nonsense. This kid sexually assaults someone and isn’t even suspended? That’s bulls—t.”

Here, CCSD allowed one of their students to be re-victimized. However, as I’ve explored previously, this isn’t an anomaly; it’s systemic.

Across CCSD, victims of sexual assault are routinely failed by a broken system.

In interviews, parents and survivors alike recounted tales of negligence, indifference and betrayal.

Whether it’s Cherry Creek, Cherokee Trail or Grandview High School — or even middle and elementary schools — story after story echoes a tale of dismissal and injustice as perpetrators evade consequences.

Let’s be clear: While CCSD appears swift to mete out punishment for relatively minor infractions, as Raykin observes, they frequently fail when it comes to addressing grave offenses of sexual assault and harassment. This double standard exposes their skewed priorities — and puts Colorado kids at risk.

Meanwhile, as safety concerns escalate amid out-of-whack disciplinary policies, it contributes to growing academic rot — leaving students languishing below pre-COVID achievement levels, especially Black and brown children who bear the brunt of educational neglect.

Denver and Cherry Creek may trumpet their social justice virtue signaling, but their actions belie their words. Safety and academic achievement are non-negotiable priorities — priorities that, if improved, could actually solve social ailments and promote upward mobility for vulnerable and minority students.

Jimmy Sengenberger is an investigative journalist, public speaker, and longtime local talk-radio host. Reach Jimmy online at Jimmysengenberger.com or on X (formerly Twitter) @SengCenter.