On Why I'm Not on the Couch Tonight

Which is where everybody else is, glued to The Path to 9/11. I'm sitting in my bed, after having worked a 14 hour day, made dinner, then worked on a grad school assignment. I'm listening to Delilah. When I get off the computer, I will go back to reading a book I need to read for class before going to bed. I won't be watching The Path. Nor will I be watching the Presidential address. I feel guilty and un-American.

I am, as Kevin put it, "9/11-d out." Now, before you jump on me, it's not as if I haven't had any time to reflect today. At the request of my principal, I taught a remembrance lesson, twice. The first time was with my gifted cluster. My lesson centered on the comparison of August 7, 1974, when tightrope artist Phillipe Petit walked a line between the Twin Towers, and September 11, 2001, when the two towers fell. Several of the group had seen The Path last night and were FULL of questions. I personally believe that, no matter how academically advanced they are, these are 9 year old children, and should not be up watching and trying to interpret the chain of events (and conspiracy theories) leading up to the events. However, that's not my judgement to make. This morning, they looked to me for affirmation or denial of all that they had heard. Some was true, some was not. They wanted answers, and while I want to be able to satisfy them, there are some questions I can't answer ("Why didn't the terrorists just talk it out with us?") and others I don't want to. Other times, their compassion and insight is touching ( "Those people in the plane in Pennsylvania are heroes because they knew they were going to die and they wanted to make sure more people wouldn't die."--in reference to the plane that went down in PA). Talking with these kids, with their very adamant sense of right and wrong, is draining.

In the afternoon, I taught a modified lesson to my special ed inclusion cluster. These kids, too, have big hearts, and their statements tend to be even more simplistic. "I saw the hole in the ground and it was pretty big." "I bet those people were really scared." As a teacher, it's my task to answer their questions without interfering in politics or personal beliefs. Sounds easy enough, but there's SO much they want to know. And so I relived the same events of September 11, 2001, with my wonderful, honest, inquisitive, big-hearted kids, twice today.

I don't need to see the images again. They are permanently imprinted in my memory. The cries and screams and tears of both those now gone and those left behind played like a soundtrack today, as I walked my kids through events they know well, but are too young to actually remember (they were 4). It's strange how heavy universal grief can feel. We all (okay, maybe just me) will breathe a sigh of relief when tomorrow comes.

So tonight, I'm fortunate that my grief is universal and not personal. I can turn off the radio, the tv, and close the newspaper. In contrast to everything else that is airing tonight, I'm putting a link here. If you're the type that wants to mourn in sorrow, wait till tomorrow. If you want mourn with a smile, that's the place to go.

As for me, it's the end of the day.