1. september 11th, by Sylvia Puglisi,
    A depressing sort of poem. But there could hardly be a happy one today, I suppose.

    * * *

    september 11
    17 first-graders
    moment of silence skipped
    for the immediacy of fresh strawberries
    and the novelty of pencil sharpeners
    (which may never wear off in this lifetime)

    invisible principal over the intercom
    (like in the old cartoons that reliably reproduced so many aspects of school particularly the cliched plots and precocious love lives)
    reading bad poetry in a
    flat lifeless voice
    like shakespeare in junior high
    with unenthused classmates
    esoteric
    and meaningless.
    stephen asks me to sharp his pencil
    and wonders why i
    teacher stands there for several moments
    staring blankly ahead
    looking like she's about to cry
    and then laughing quietly
    at how absurd it all is.

    come to the rug, children.
    i want to tell you a story
    of something that happened before you were born
    to people you will never get to know
    in a place you've never been.
    (next will be a story of a
    giant blue-green ball hurtling through space
    and a giant yellow ball
    they hold like lovers
    el sol y la tierra
    we love story time
    especially doctor seuss!)

    in the story it is a tuesday
    just like today.
    here is the sign for tuesday, make a t with your fingers and circle
    tuesday
    a cold bright tuesday just like today
    it was september 11 that day
    just like today.
    september is a long word that starts with an s
    and let's count to eleven
    one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven
    and in spanish
    uno dos tres quatro cinco seis siete ocho nueve diez once
    once upon a time
    in the year 2001
    before most of you were
    born or when you were the tiniest infant
    gnawing your fist and smiling to the delight of your parents.
    on a day just like today
    when little children just like you were counting the date
    a bad thing happened.
    a very bad thing.

    bad people
    very angry, nasty people
    who perhaps did not have enough
    people to love them
    hurt our country
    the United States of America
    you know America in sign language, children
    it is like a hug in a circle
    show me, children.

    our country was attacked
    some airplanes were flown into buildings
    important buildings
    two tall ones in New York
    which fell down
    also a military building called the Pentagon
    which has five sides
    show me five fingers, children.
    very good.
    and the last plane
    the good people took from the bad people
    and flew into the ground instead of a building.
    many, many people died.
    the people in the planes and the buildings
    and some of the firefighters who tried to save them
    they were heros, do you know that word?
    it means brave, brave people who did something amazing
    like going into a building that is on fire and falling down
    and rescuing people.
    are you listening, children?
    isaac, put your head down.

    this was the biggest attack on American soil ever
    which means
    that it was really scary for us
    really scary for your parents
    who probably grabbed you
    their babies
    from the cradles
    and held you close
    and whispered soft comforting words to themselves
    as they watched pictures on the tv
    and cried or
    just sat
    watching.

    the world is different now
    you don't know because you don't remember
    how it was before
    you can't ever know the time when parents
    worried about teething rings and toes
    and not fiery explosions.
    you weren't sitting there like i was
    in a classroom on tuesday
    (which was picture day and everyone
    was dressed to the nines
    it was two days after my birthday
    and i had new clothes
    i was looking sharp)
    a whisper went around
    that something terrible had happened
    a disaster
    an earthquake
    a bomb
    people were dying
    where? new york
    new york which was more magical and mystical to us than disneyland
    new york with the giant apple and the statue of liberty
    with the buildings that scraped the sky.

    there was a moment of silence

    kids fidgeted a little just like
    you fidget today just like
    we fidgeted when old men with gravelly voices told us of pearl harbor.
    they speak of it like an old scar
    the memory is still fresh.
    september 11 is for me a cut
    that it took a long time for me to realize was bleeding
    like the scrape on the leg that i got from band
    which i didn't feel at the time any more than a poke
    but later my band teacher gasped and
    pointed at when the blood was dripping to the floor.
    i have a scar now, too.

    but you children have no scars
    you are young and
    tiny and unblemished and i
    truly hope no history is made in your lifetime
    because it is a messy business
    or so i have found.
    we with memory scars will age and fade
    recounting stories for
    our childrens' school reports on historical events.
    you will grow and replace us and get your own scars
    falling off your bicycle.
    you will remember the date as a
    sad story and me
    teacher crying a little when you're not looking
    and so will move past me
    into the future
    without my fears and doubts.

    this consoles me, children
    on this big blue ball going around the big yellow ball
    you have danced around six times
    keep dancing, children
    the slow beautiful waltz of time.
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I'm a public school elementary teacher from W.V. beginning my career in poverty schools in the 1980's. (I have GIST cancer-small intestinal and syringomyelia which isn't what I want to define me but does help define how I view the meaning of my life.) I am a mom of 3 great children-now grown. I teach 3rd grade in an Underperforming school, teaching mostly immigrant 2nd Lang. children. I majored in art, as well as teaching. Art informs all I do. Teaching is a driving part of my life energy. But I am turning to art soon. I'm married to an artist I coaxed into teaching- now a Superintendent of one of the bigger Districts in the area. Similar population. We both have dedicated inordinate amounts of our life to the field of teaching in areas of poverty hoping to give students opportunities to make better lives. I'm trying to write as I can to the issues of PUBLIC education , trying to gain the sophistication to address the issues in written forms so they can be understood from my teaching contexts.I like to blog from daily experiences. My work is my own, not reflective of any school district.
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