On This Day...

Ten years ago today I was teaching Acting I to a group of students who were at best interested, and at worst ready to fall asleep.  It was a beautiful, clear morning, and no one was very excited about being cooped up in a black room with no windows, which was the Lab Theatre.  During the class I got an all call to the faculty to check email.  I did, and was told that there was something going on in New York.  I had another email that asked about my parents.  Were they okay?  Then Scott, a colleague, came into my room and told me to turn on the television.  The look on his face was something that I will never forget.  I did turn on the television.

The Twin Towers were on the screen; one of them had smoke coming out of it.  My students were wondering what was happening; I tired to assure them that everyting was okay, but I had no explanation for the smoke and panic from the media.  I asked that we simply watch quietly.  Within two minutes the second plane hit the second tower.  At that point, we knew that something was wrong. 

Soon thereafter. there was an all call for teachers to turn off their televisions. I waited a minute or two, and then I saw the surreal. One of the Twin Towers collapsed.  I then knew that what we were witnessing was not only horrific, but also historical.  I also knew that my students should be spared this.  What if one of thier family members were working in New York?  What if one of them was in the Towers?  I turned off the television, and I tried my best to do what teachers and schools do: keep the students safe and secure; it was a difficult task. 

Throughout the day, there were questions being asked that I could not answer; there were worries that I could not assuage.  In fact, I was worried, as well.  Mom and Dad were flying home from Montreal that morning.  I was to meet them for dinner in the evening.  As per their itinerary, they were to be flying over New York right about the time that the Towers were hit.  I was devastated by worry for them and for my fellow countrymen.  I was almost debilitated with fear that I might lose two of the people that I cared about most: my parents.

But my calling was to teach children. My most important job that day was to ensure the safety and the security of those in my charge:  my students.  I worried about the kids in my classroom;  I worried about my former students who were in New York for study or for work; I worried. 

One of the most beautiful things about being a teacher is the ability to get lost in the lesson and get lost in the day.  I was able to do that. I was able to help students try to understand what was happening, even though I was unable to help them understand why it was happening.  School should be a safe place for children.  I hope that I and my colleagues gave the extra understanding and support that day to our charges. 

I found out during my planning that my parents were safe in Atlanta.  Theirs was the only flight not cancelled simply because someone important was on the plane.  Each of my students who were in New York had graciously checked in at the school letting their former teachers know that they were safe.  Michelle, in particular, wrote on her online diary about what she was experiencing.  What she wrote was dark and scary, but told through the eyes of someone young and...innocent, for lack of a better word. 

I cancelled rehearsal that day; it was the right thing to do, but I stayed at school in case my students needed to be somewhere safe.  I think that I needed them more than they needed me.  I then met my family at my parents' house.  September 11, 2001 was not the night to go to dinner; September 11, 2001 was the night to stay at home and cook with family and spend time with family and pray with family. 

That is what we will be doing this evening, the tenth anniversary of one of the most terrible tragedies to hit our soil.  Where were you when the world stopped turning, and how will you spend your day?

Recent Books; I've Been Remiss

So I have read two books recently that were really good.  Apparently, I read dark literature, and I am probably not going to change that.  I guess it's because I have good life with good friends, good family, and good (okay, debatable) children. 

Bel Canto

Story of terrorists who invade a private party for a Japanese man.  The man is visiting from Japan to the South American country because his favorite opera singer has agreed to perform.  The story is in third person omniscient and opens the reader up to the minds and hearts of not only those held captive but also the terrorists. 

It's a slow read in the beginning, but as the book progresses, the reader finds himself/herself engaged in the intimate details of why one does what one does. 

Three Stars; the ending was a bit truncated, and the epilogue a bit too "happy"

Zeitoun

 Read this one in about a week, and for those of you with children, you will understand that this is a feat.  It accounts a Muslim family before, during, and after Katrina.  The book shows the effects of a government gone awry, and the people within the government agencies gone power hungry. 

For those of us who are sucked into tragedy and feel empathy for those who experience tragedy, you will understand why I read this.  When Katrina hit New Orleans, I sat in front of the television and cried until my husband turned off the television and forbade me to turn it on again.  I sent money, I gave blood, and I adopted a family in need (probably to no avail after reading this book).

This non-fiction tempts the reader into believing that New Orleans may have been much better off if the federal government, more specifically FEMA, had not gotten involved in the disaster.  I was completely sucked into the narration of the book.  The ending, which I had to go to early on in the book, depicts a triumph of the human spirit that is admirable~I, myself, would not have fared as well as the protagonists. 

The Tale of the "Sneaky Penis"

Okay, it sounds more risque than it really is, but I feel the need to share...

In our family we are very open about private parts. I grew up in a puritan Catholic manner, so the words penis and vagina were not uttered.  In fact, as a child, I was pretty certain that if I went farther than first base, I would be killed in a horrific car accident and end up with a front row seat in hell while pregnant.  It took me until I was in university to...well, whatever.

We decided that we would be very factual about boy and girl parts with our children, and we have called them by their medical terms since they were born.  Which is why I was shocked when my husband came out to the porch one morning this week while I was enjoying my coffee to tell me this story.

Apparently Daddy went upstairs in his undies to get the kids ready for school.  The girl child would have none of this, and she told him in no uncertain terms that he was to go and put on some pants.  He complied but was a bit befuddled.  Upon returning properly clad in full dress to get the four year old, she said to him, "Now your sneaky penis won't get me."  I asked her about it, but she clammed up like a kid getting into trouble, so I let it be.  I mean, did she hear about the sneaky penis at school?  At church?  From Dora?

In a way, I'm glad that she thinks penises are sneaky. She's not wrong in her assessment that men's appendages have caused many a heartache. The sooner she realizes that boys are sneaky and so are their penises, the better off she will be, and the better her father and I will sleep at night.  Lord knows I don't want to have "the talk" with her any time soon (double digits, but I'm not fooling myself), so this was refreshing.

On the other hand, I don't want her to be all worked up over a penis.  They have their place.  Without one in particular, she would not be here to talk about sneaky penises.  I don't want her to be afraid of men and their penises, but being wary of them and their sneakiness would not be a bad thing.

Would it? 

I'm chalking this one up to childhood and calling it a day. Thoughts?