9/11/09

Eight years ago, I was living in central Texas with Paul, and teaching full-time at Temple College. I had driven the 30 miles or so to work, put my bag in my office, and had started brewing tea. A fellow teacher, Riley, came in to ask if I had heard the news about the World Trade Center. I went to his office with him, where his office mate had set up a tiny TV he kept under his desk. We watched as amateur footage showed one plane, and then another, slipping into the tops of the skyscrapers.

I was stunned. I remember saying that going to teach my class of freshman composition students seemed really pointless given the death and destruction and chaos that we were seeing on that small screen. Riley said something like, "It isn't any more pointless than it is on any other day."

The school administrators hadn't yet decided whether or not to cancel classes for the day, so I went into my class and taught. I started by saying that I knew about the morning's tragedy, and asked my students to pray for those people and their families. But then I got into my rhythm, and we got through the class. After that first class, the rest of the day was cancelled, and everyone went home.

I had a long drive home. At the time, we were living in Killeen, which is next to Ft. Hood, the U.S.'s largest military installation. Would the post be attacked? It made sense, given the number of soldiers and equipment. Every radio station was giving news of the attacks. I got home, and turned on the news. Over and over the footage of the planes, both the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, scrolled on the screen. I remember falling asleep on the couch, not out of boredom, but just the exhaustion of watching so much suffering and chaos going on in my country.

Classes were canceled again on the 12th. By then, everyone was scared. Even though no one had attacked Ft. Hood, wouldn't the troops be sent out to defend our country? Who would be sent? When? Where? There were all the rumors of what might happen next, what had happened, who was to blame. We were all shocked and stunned.

But I thought when I returned to school just a few days later, about what Riley had said to me, that my job as a teacher was just as important on 9/11 as any other day, or as some pessimists would say, just as useless. Today I drove to school listening to the voices of family and friends reading the names of their killed loved ones. I walked past a ceremony on the school lawn as I went inside to grade papers. I listened to the national anthem before the start of the Cubs game. And every time, I said a prayer. I pray for those who aren't educated and have nothing to live for besides death. I pray that the people whose lives I touch in a classroom will learn tolerance and patience. I pray that our soldiers will fight for what is right, but also serve our country with dignity and justice, not hate and vengeance. My job as a teacher isn't pointless on any day if I inspire others to live peacefully, with laughter, acceptance and cooperation.