It's been 16 years since I ran from the fear of the crumbling of the World Trade Center into the confusion of my new America. I left New York and Wall Street, and moved to Minnesota. I seek comfort and salvation now as a teacher in a school outside of St. Paul.
So I wonder, as I have in the past, how I would talk to my students about 9/11.
It's so far removed from their consciousness; like the Vietnam War, it's ancient history. It is buried in their unconscious and only surfaces in other unaware shapes and forms.
This year I decided I would talk about how to find meaning in our lives:
How to impress upon my students the need not to remain neutral to what is going on in our country. How not to expect the government to solve our problems, but how we as individuals need to look into ourselves and take responsibility for our choices.
A lot of my students don't believe that their choices matter. They think that they're destined to live the lives into which they were born. This is a cultural and societal trap we must free them from.
How do I explain to them that the decaying odor of anger in our country, the putrid smell of prejudice and the miasma of hate in our country are related to that day?
We have stopped talking to one another. We don't call; we text. And now we even use fewer words in our texts and replace those words with the shorthand of emoji.