Prepared Before the Crisis
Building Systems That Save Lives Before an Emergency Begins
Building Systems That Save Lives Before an Emergency Begins
By Ashley Lawrenz, RN, BSN, Paramedic
Preparedness. Prevention. Protection. That’s where my work lives—especially where children and families are most vulnerable.
I didn’t set out to be a systems builder. I set out to help people on their worst days.
I began my career in rural emergency medical services, where help was often far away and hesitation could cost lives. There was no waiting for perfect conditions. You assessed quickly, acted decisively, and stayed calm enough to bring everyone else with you. That way of thinking—grounded, steady under pressure—never left me. It became the lens through which I understood care, safety, and responsibility.
In rural EMS, you learn early that when help is far away, sometimes you are the help. Minutes matter. Preparation matters. And the ability to lead calmly in chaos can change outcomes forever.
That mindset followed me into labor and delivery nursing, where I witnessed the same truth from a different perspective. When teams are prepared, communication is clear, and caregivers feel supported, fear softens. Safety feels real. Outcomes improve—not just clinically, but emotionally. Preparation doesn’t remove uncertainty, but it creates trust, and trust changes everything for families during some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives.
That path eventually led me into school health, where I realized something that surprised even me: the most powerful emergency response is the one that never has to happen at all.
The moment that clarified this work came when I used a Stop the Bleed kit to save a student’s life. There wasn’t time to debate roles or wait for additional resources. The training was there. The tools were accessible. The response worked. The outcome changed before a hospital ever entered the picture.
That experience didn’t make me feel heroic.
It made me certain.
When people are trained, systems are prepared, and tools are within reach, outcomes improve long before a crisis escalates. That’s prevention in action.
That certainty pushed me to ask a better question: Why isn’t this level of preparedness everywhere people gather?
Especially in schools.
In school health—particularly in rural communities—I see the downstream effects of fragmented systems every day. Schools are asked to manage medical emergencies, mental health crises, and life-threatening events without being built for rapid response. That isn’t a failure of care or commitment. It’s a failure of infrastructure.
So my work shifted from reacting to building.
I focus on translating healthcare logic into school environments: clear roles, rapid decision-making, prevention-first thinking, accessible tools, and sustainable funding. This work has included placing Stop the Bleed kits and emergency preparedness kits in classrooms, training educators and staff, conducting scenario-based emergency drills, and helping build our district’s first Emergency Crisis Response Team (ECRT).
The following year, we faced another life-or-death emergency—this time involving early detection, CPR, and an AED. Because the systems were already in place, another life was saved.
Those moments weren’t isolated incidents.
They were proof of concept.
What began as a single response grew into a sustainable model for school safety—one rooted in preparedness rather than panic—and was later shared nationally as an example of cross-disciplinary collaboration.
Since 2023, I have secured over $100,000 in grant funding to support mental health initiatives, post-COVID recovery, and emergency preparedness. Burnout is not a funding model, and advocacy without sustainability isn’t leadership—it’s risk.
Beyond my own district, I mentor other nurses in grant writing and program development, helping build systems that last and amplifying impact through shared leadership.
A consistent thread runs through all of my work—from EMS to obstetrics to school health: the earliest opportunity to protect children is by protecting the adults who care for them. When caregivers are trained, supported, and resourced, children are safer by default.
Preparedness and compassion are often treated as opposites.
They aren’t.
Preparedness is compassion—expressed early enough to matter.
Outside of clinical work, I also coach 7th- and 8th-grade boys’ basketball, using sports as a platform to teach connection, resilience, and mental health awareness. The same values that ground my medical work—empathy, teamwork, and readiness—shape my coaching.
Whether I’m in a classroom, a clinic, a gym, or a crisis, my mission is the same: to help people feel safe, seen, and capable of responding when it matters most.
When people ask what I hope others take from my story, my answer is simple. Influence doesn’t come from position or permission. It comes from noticing gaps, caring enough to fix them, and building solutions that last.
My work isn’t about reacting better.
It’s about building systems that make reaction less necessary—and building them proactively, in ways that ultimately save children’s lives.
