I used to plan a full lesson for 9-11. We would read some articles and talk about what it was like for us. Kids remembered a few years back to the desensitized loop of airplanes attacking buildings. They would say things like, "It wasn't until I was older that I realized it wasn't happening to a bunch of buildings all over the country." Kids talked about their parents being scared and angry while they sat back in confusion, not understanding the hate that would lead people to do what happened. Things have changed. My current students weren't able to speak or walk when 9-11 happened. But they were shaped by the post-9-11 environment of a perpetual war and a fear of terrorism and a culture of surveillance. For many of them, today is a historical event and one that feels a bit like a movie. Sadly, some of the kids who seem to know the most about what happened are the ones who buy into the wildest of conspiracy theories. I remember saying, "Never forget." But what does that mean? We didn't talk about the fear when it happened. We were glued to the television as consumers and not critical thinkers. We I hid behind screens. A culture of silence settled in. To question things became un-American. At the moment when we should have celebrated our freedom, we became scared and angry and started making country western songs about sticking boots in other people's behinds. So, what will I say about 9-11? I want to tell them that people died. Real people. I want to tell them that I fixated on a crumbled building instead of grieving for families. At the moment when I should have embraced the people around me, I turned to news-ertainment. I let the media define my paradigm and my emotions - not entirely, but to a large degree. I never want to do that again. It's why I avoided the news during Newton and the Boston Marathon bombing. The way I remember 9-11 is by turning away from the screen in the midst of the tragedy and turning toward the people I love. photo credit:
laverrue via
photopin cc
