Everyone has their own very personal, very powerful 9-11 story. My husband was camping in rural New Jersey and was unaware of anything happening until Thursday of that week. He never felt the initial jolt, or saw the horror unfold time and again in the media.  My daughter wasn’t even born yet, and my son, in Jr. High at the time, remembers teachers shutting down classes and watching TV live all day. As a parent, I have issue with that.

I was teaching second grade in urban St. Louis when my principal sent a sub to my room with word for me to come down to her office. “You’re the calmest person I know”, she said. “Help me figure out what to do.”

This was just after the first building was hit, and as we attempted to determine exactly what was going on, (Osama who? I said) we watched, on her little black and white TV, as the second building was attacked. Then both buildings crumble. Then the Pentagon, then Pennsylvania. Figure out what to do with 400 five through ten year olds?  I could barely make sense of it myself.

What was our responsibility to them, and to their families? I asked myself what I’d want, as a parent. In the end, part of the decision was made for us. St. Louis Public Schools released a statement: Schools would lock down, we would keep their children safe, and parents could pick their kids up if they felt it necessary. We -  my principal and I - decided it was not our place to talk to the students that day about the still unfolding events. Teachers were told to curb their emotions in front of the children and go on with business as usual, leaving the explaining to parents. A tough thing, in the face of the shock of that day, but for the most part, I think we pulled it off.

I called every family on my roster that night to discuss how they would like me to approach the topic. It was the only way I felt comfortable, because ultimately, it’s tricky talking to little ones about scary, violent things. I felt the need to respect each family’s different needs. At the end of the day, though, it turned out I didn’t need a plan; there was little interest from my seven year olds. It was too far removed from them, too abstract. Only one child mentioned it the next day. "They crashed a plane into White Castle," she said. It was the only conversation I had about it.

Over the next week or so, we’ll spend a significant amount time as families, church groups, schools and a nation remembering September 11, 2001. It’s indescribable how that single event has changed us, both as individuals and a collective. I find that we, as educators, are still wondering how to talk to students about an event that predated many of their existences.

My husband missed the media frenzy directly following 9-11. Can you imagine?  For most of us, those images are what we have as memory. Most of our children are in the same boat as Martin; too young to be allowed to watch it ten years ago, or not even born yet, their memory is what they’ve heard about, read about. Or maybe your kids were just old enough to understand, the ones now in college or beyond school altogether.

I worry educators, or our nation as a whole, will lean towards either obsession or trivializing. Seems disrespectful to do either.

What do I want as a parent? I can tell you I don’t want my daughter to participate in a fluffy, idyllic 'ceremony'. I don’t want her to memorize poems or songs that I know all too well are just empty words. She’s eight now, just one year older than my babies ten years ago. Is it all too removed for her, to abstract and distant?

I don’t think so. At least part of it will always apply to her life, in one way or another. (Airport security is commonplace to her; when Martin went on his camping trip, just before 9-11, he had an ax and hatchet in his carry on.)

I don't know what they'll do at her small, private school, but on Sunday we will  honor and practice (talk about, maybe write about) what was, to me, the most important lesson from ten years ago: What you think is important one minute can mean absolutely nothing in the next.

That day we teachers put on a brave face while whispering in the halls,  it was difficult to get upset over missed homework or a line of second graders slightly askew. Even after that, I viewed these things differently. 9-11 taught me not to sweat the small stuff, as they say, and to have endless gratitude for what’s really important: Relationships, love, life. I show it every day, or at least try.

Like ten years ago, I wonder how you, as parents, would like us to talk to your children about 9-11, what you would like us to do, or say.  Already this week I've listened to two stories on NPR about how schools are honoring 9-11. What do you think about the importance we're placing on this event, during school time?

I’ve heard some kids are reading this blog now (sweet!). What does your generation think? What would you like to do to honor the memory of 9-11? And I also wonder, what was your powerful lesson? Like stories of that day, everyone seems to have one.

 

By Sharon Linde, Education Blogger for SmartParenting