This time, it was Virginia. This time, the 14-year-old gunchild missed his primary target and merely wounded two. This time, one more time, it did not happen here.

Here’s a few things that have happened here recently in insulated, innocent Maine: A Newport middle schooler is charged with threatening to kill his principal; two teens hide a cache of 13 stolen guns near the elementary school in Hartland; a Brunswick eight-grader threatens to kill his principal with a baseball bat less than a week after the principal’s window was shattered as he sat at his desk. The Thomaston Grammar School is trashed by young vandals; death threats are scrawled on blackboards.

Down in Blue Hill, a George Stevens Academy senior uses his yearbook entry to launch a violence-laden tirade, wishing gruesome death upon all not in his immediate circle of friends. Instead of expulsion, he is celebrated, he is cheered at commencement, he pumps his fists as he accepts his diploma. His only regret is that this little misunderstanding might remain on his permanent record.

After all, he says, it was just a joke. Only they’re not laughing in Springfield, Jonesboro, West Paducah, Pearl or any of the other towns too steeped in grief to see the humor. Nor are they laughing in schools across this state, where teachers report a shocking rise in violent words and deeds, where many say a new feature has been added to the common fire drill — students pretending to shoot each other.

But something else is happening in Maine; somebody is trying to do something, trying to find a way to end the heartbreaking cycle of alienation, despair and violence afflicting this forsaken generation. The newly expanded University of Maine Safe Schools Committee is enlisting a growing number of educators, jurists, police, medical professionals and clergy in its search for answers.

The answers won’t come easily; at this point, it’s mostly questions. What level of violence in schools should be the primary concern? Should it be the weapons violence that still is a rarity; the physical violence that increases daily; or the verbal violence that permeates, the taunting, the insults, the threats? If schools are to draw a line, where should it be drawn?

Where, the committee asks, does school violence — which isn’t taught in school, but just manifests itself there — come from? Is it from dad, coming home every night with abuse on his mind? Is it mom’s road rage? Is it the bottomless swill of gore and belittlement that pours from TV and movie screens? How many more tragedies will occur before society gets serious about raising its children?

In trying to grasp the scope of the problem, this committee is doing a job of vital importance, but laying the groundwork for a permanent solution won’t help much when school reopens next fall. Immediate action is needed, a quick fix, a temporary, even if imperfect, palliative is urgently required. That means legislation, but Maine’s political leaders have been strangely silent.

Yes, Maine aggressively prosecutes hate crimes, but none of the schoolhouse massacres have been connected to racial or sexual bias. Yes, the Communities for Children Project helps build partnerships between schools and caring adults, but such programs have no appeal to adults who do not care. There simply is not time to continue to preach to the choir.

Other states are debating requiring a mandatory 72-hour psychological evaluation for any student bringing a weapon to school. Why isn’t Maine? Selling illegal drugs on school grounds is a far more serious offense than selling the same amount of the same drugs elsewhere. Why not make the same distinction for assault, terrorizing, threatening or harassment, why not elevate those offenses if committed at school?

Of course, this would have the immediate effect of further burdening already overworked police officers, it would jam up already overcrowded court dockets. But if nothing else, perhaps the sight of more violence-prone teens ending up not in the principal’s office but in a real criminal court before a real judge might expose Maine’s juvenile justice system for the empty, underfunded shell that it is. It might even force society to take responsibility for the behavioral problems it creates and then dumps upon the schools.

Thankfully, this horrifying school year is over. The UM committee will work through the summer, doing valuable work for the long-term. Those who have command over the sort-term must get busy. The summer in Maine is short; September is just around the corner.