September 11, 2001 dawned a beautiful day in Southern California. In the pre-dawn hours, I had a great gym workout. As the sun rose, I drove to the job I loved teaching high school students about words and how we shape them to make meaning of our lives, of our world.
I
felt so good, in fact, I didn’t turn the radio on. I just drove. I probably
sang, as I often did in the truck on the way to work. But as I exited the
freeway, I finally punched the button to listen to a Los Angeles based news
station. I taught Journalism, after all; I needed to stay current on breaking
news.
“Breaking”
would be the operative word that day.
Breaking
planes. Breaking buildings. Breaking bodies. Breaking families. Breaking lives.
Breaking hearts. So many hearts breaking. So many hearts hoping against hope. Then
breaking many days later.
Breaking
routines.
Teachers
were gathered in the staff lounge when I arrived, riveted to the news coverage.
“What
do we say to our students?” someone asked.
“I’m
not changing my lesson plan!” a teacher snapped back. Astonished, I looked at her,
saw her eyes filled with tears, and then I wanted to hug her. Denial is a
powerful manipulator.
“Are
you scared?” I asked the fourteen-year-old freshmen in my first class.
“Yes,”
they answered.
“You’re
safe here,” I told them. “I promise.” I told them, too, that I loved them,
something I had never said to a class before. But I would say that to my
students every year after 9/11. And from that day forward until I retired, I would
ask myself at the beginning of each school year: How can I make my students
feel safe in my classroom this year?
Because,
to be honest, I haven’t felt safe since 9/11.
The
war in Afghanistan, hunting down Osama bin Laden, did not make me feel safe.
Mandating
security screenings at airports did not make me feel safe.
Instituting
a “war on terror” in which we clumsily target individuals who do not look or
believe as we do has not made me feel safe.
What
I need more of to make me feel safe is not an escalation of fear.
What
I need more of to make me feel safe is love.
At
the end of the day on September 11, 2001, I gathered my children around me. I
needed to feel their love, and I needed them to know that no matter what
happened in the coming days, I loved them fiercely.
Because
this is what I learned from 9/11: Love is stronger than fear.
And
no matter what has broken, love will find a way to heal it.
YES, Kay. To love and to feel love, is what helps me. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. ��
ReplyDeleteBrenda, exactly. Hal David's lyrics come to mind, and they are just as true today as they were in the 1960's: "What the world needs now is love, sweet love. It's the only thing that there's just too little of...."
DeleteThis brings tears to my eyes. There is so much ugliness these days. We have to cling to those we love, no matter the cost. Love finds away even in dark times.
ReplyDeleteI will share my story about my 9/11 experience. I was in English class (fittingly). Someone came to the door and said to turn on the TV. I watched the first building burning and was hoping it was an accident.... Then the second plane hit. My heart sank. I feel for everyone involved, those killed, their families, bystanders, emergency and law enforcement, the passengers on those flights. It was a horrible day. I was in a daze at witnessing that. I am happy to have the life I have and don't take for granted that I am lucky.
Love prevails overall... At least I hope so.
Thank you for this.
Scott, thank you for your thoughtful and heartfelt response to this. So many lives were impacted by the hateful actions of a handful of others. You're absolutely right; there is indeed so much ugliness these days. We have to use love as a light and just keep beaming it all around like beacon, wherever we can. Keep spreading the love. I love you!
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