I'm not usually one of those people who get watery-eyed about historical events. There are people who get misty when discussing Princess Diana or Elvis or JFK, but I've always seen myself as pretty even-keeled when it comes to history. But I had sort of a different feeling today. It's September 11. Eleven years ago, the World Trade Center and Pentagon were attacked by terrorists. I was kind of in flashback mode this morning and it was a pretty bizarre change of direction for me.
I've been starting off all of my classes with a topic question. These questions are designed to get the students thinking about the goals for the day and to encourage critical thinking. Today's topic dealt with September 11th and how the students and their families had been affected by it. I thought it would be an appropriate way to mark the occasion...but then I realized that I was teaching freshmen. Many of my students were born in 1998 and had no recollection of those horrible events. In fact, many of them hadn't even heard too many details, as American History classes typically do not cover modern events. These kids were pretty much in the dark about one of the most unforgettable days in this country's history. I ended up telling them my story.
I told them about the times that we never forget where we are. I remember I was in Mrs. Long's 7th grade classroom. A teacher walked in and said that one of the Twin Towers had been hit by an airplane but I didn't think anything about it. Then the principal came over the P.A. system a few minutes later and said that the other Twin Tower had been destroyed. At this point I remember being pretty confused. Mrs. Long turned the television on and we watched the images of destruction for the rest of the day. When I got home that day I recall wanting to watch The Simpsons but being greeted by more news stories on every channel. This continued for a few days...constant, round-the-clock coverage of the terrible events. Four planes had been hijacked, three had hit their target, and 3,000 people had died. It was one of the most tragic days in the country's history.
I talked with my students about the effects of that day. We had heightened airline security, an increased sense of racial profiling, an extremely controversial new piece of legislation dubbed the Patriot Act, and a new war against terror, focusing primarily on Afghanistan and Iraq. The kids were shocked to hear that back in the day, we could bring knives and boxcutters and all sorts of stuff on planes. We could walk through security to see our loved ones off at the gate. As I was waxing poetic about how innocent society used to be, I was struck by how old I sounded. I was talking about the good old days, the perpetually sunny days before that great disaster. Those days when everyone used common sense and loved each other and showed compassion and discernment. And it led me to think about the mark I am leaving on my own history.
It's not often that we realize we are in the throes of history as it's happening. It's usually in retrospect that we look back and notice the impact of certain events. With September 11, though, it was different. It was a watershed day in American history - and even World History. I knew almost immediately, even at age 12, that this was going to mean something. The country was going to change. And change it has. I remember those first three months or so after the attacks, when everyone started freaking out about anthrax as well. It was a potentially scary time, but what sticks with me the most is that so many people of all walks of life came together. Democrats and Republicans briefly shed their political affiliations and identified themselves as Americans. Citizens rallied around President Bush. Like him or hate him, he was a symbol of hope, unity, and strength. The United States were not going to be defeated. It sounds a bit cliched, but we were all patriots.
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