Writing to Heal, Understand, and Cope

Abstract

and nervous about teaching for the first time. To calm my nerves I had prepared and planned, but nothing could have prepared me for what I would encounter student teaching in the fall of 2001. I began the semester with community-building activities. On the fourth school day, we instantly became a community, a community dealing with tragedy and coping with loss and a pervasive fear. On September 11, my students, along with the other 3,000 students of Stuyvesant High School, ran for their lives up the West Side Highway as they saw the twin towers come down. Our school was only a few blocks away; some had parents who would be in those towers. Everyone was scared and shocked, unable to understand how and why this could be taking place. Everything that they were sure of was to be questioned; everything that they took for granted-their freedom, their safety-now seemed all too fragile. We were away from Stuyvesant and each other for a week and a half. I found myself feeling very isolated and longing for people to talk to, to share my feelings and fears with. I was sure that my students had the same need. I emailed all of them on the night of September 11, hoping and praying that they had all arrived home safely. Because Stuyvesant High School is a specialized school, students come from all five boroughs of New York City. Many of my ninth graders were still getting acquainted with Manhattan and now they had to find their way back to Queens and Brooklyn without public transportation. Some had to walk for miles over bridges; most took hours to get home. Luckily, all of my students and their families were fine.