9/11 In My Classroom
I personalized the lesson with details that my students will never read in history books: the days-long chirping of those cell phones at Ground Zero, the very small body parts, the pink mist in the air, the several hours I spent as I awaited word of the fate of one of my friends in the Pentagon (He, a wonderful man with several kids and a disabled wife, was called out of the building, out of the very room that was destroyed, a few minutes before the plane struck), the children who perished in the day care center at the Pentagon, tales of recovery personnel and what they went through in those weeks following 9/11, the anthrax attacks (the devil in the mail box), the many lost freedoms and the many resulting inconveniences, how this generation will never be as free as my generation, the travesty of the Flight 93 Memorial, and more — including the whitewash of Islam and my anger at today’s dhimmitude and political correctness.
I spoke without notes.
I spoke from the heart.
The last segment of my lesson plan consisted of playing Bruce Springsteen’s “You’re Missing” on the classroom's excellent sound system: