So yesterday was 9/11/12 and it was an interesting day here at RMS (although aren’t they all?). As we observed an especially poignant moment of silence following the pledge of allegiance, an intriguing thought came to me: some of these kids weren’t alive during the terrorist attacks eleven years ago. Even those students that were alive were on a year or two old, meaning that to these students, 9/11 means the same thing that the JFK Assassination or Pearl Harbor means to my parents and grandparents. They can remember exactly where they were and what was happening, just like I can remember being in Mrs. Kirby’s first hour english class as an awkward 6th grader.
I can remember a time before 9/11. But my students cannot. In fact, they can’t remember a time when we weren’t at war as a country, or a time when airport security wasn’t tight. They don’t remember life before Bush or the housing bubble or any of the myriad events that have shaped our country heading into the new millenium, just like they don’t understand life without ESPN or Facebook or texting since your were seven.
A lot of things happen through TFA that remind me of how young I am. This is the first time I’ve felt old.