Twice this summer I had the privilege of visiting the 9/11 Memorial in New York City to see the work-in-progress that is being constructed in honor of those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001. Like most, I remember vividly the morning that planes struck the Twin Towers and the absolute confusion it caused for my ideologies, teaching, and understanding of history, global powers, and personal responsibilities. The day changed everything. I knew at that moment exactly why it is important to ask questions, to seek knowledge, and to take a stance as a responsible citizen of the world.
To visit the memorial is humbling. To understand the magnitude of this event in America is a mission. To become a better man as a result of what my feeble abilities will allow has trumped any egotistical claim I can make about what others preach as right and wrong.
So, I pause for a moment to say a prayer and to remember the conversations this day created and the endless perspectives it launched. Reflection doesn't bring back those who lost their lives too soon, yet it does bring our generation in touch with the complexities of being adults, educators, and men and women who work for others.
Today is a new day, but it can't neglect those that came before it.
To visit the memorial is humbling. To understand the magnitude of this event in America is a mission. To become a better man as a result of what my feeble abilities will allow has trumped any egotistical claim I can make about what others preach as right and wrong.
So, I pause for a moment to say a prayer and to remember the conversations this day created and the endless perspectives it launched. Reflection doesn't bring back those who lost their lives too soon, yet it does bring our generation in touch with the complexities of being adults, educators, and men and women who work for others.
Today is a new day, but it can't neglect those that came before it.
All our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out! Out brief candle. Life's but a walking shadow that struts and frets its hour upon the stage until it is heard no more. It is a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and sorrow, signifying nothing.The tale signifies everything, too. It cannot be forgotten.
No comments:
Post a Comment